My Prayer
by hiei1317
Summary: What happens when Christine leaves and Erik feels that there is nothing left to live for. Will the only one that can save him really do so? Will Raoul save the Phantom of the Opera?Rating: M for character death, and some sex yaoi folks, malemale sex!, a
1. A Broken Heart

a/n: well, I'm so sorry that this took so long, but I ran into a time that Phantom of the Opera (i can't believe it) stopped being one of the things that I obsessed over (temporarily of course) and in that time I lost the flow of this story! For those of you that are still willing to read it though, I did manage to finish it with about 28 chapters! Enjoy!

Rating: M for character death (though I will not tell you who until it happens), and some sex (yaoi folks, male/male sex!), and angst (as all my Phantom stories seem to have)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Phantom of the Opera or the characters (cries)

This takes place at the end of the 2004 movie, BUT, it seems does have some pieces/parts of the book mixed in

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RAOUL POV

My beloved Christine, you love me no more. Your arm rests lightly on my shoulder as I begin to push us away and I feel no love in the deed, only tiredness, and need.

Your voice calls, "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime."

Mine answers without thinking, "Say the word and I will follow you."

"Share each day with me," I feel her head turn to rest slightly on my arm, "each," and then turn to look back, to the damned house under the opera, by the lake, "night, each morning."

We move close to the turn that will lead us from this place, and she turns back to look forward as his voice reaches our ears, "You alone can make my song take flight."

I look to the floor of the boat, and then back ahead. The man loves her, he would never harm her, not on purpose, and yet he had enough strength to give her up to me, just because of that love. She loves him back. I'm sure of it, though she surprised me by begging me to see him one more time, to give back his ring.

As we turn the corner a pained cry from behind us floods my senses, "It's over now the music of the night!"

There is no noise as we reach the shore. Yet, if I listen close enough, I think that I can hear the breaking of a heart.

I turn to my beloved Christine, and ask, "Why?"

"Why what, Raoul?" her hand comes to rest on my face, but I move away from her touch.

"You said you loved me, but then proved your love to him, only to break his heart! Why?" I demand.

She backs up a step at my harsh tone, then touches my hand gently, and I don't flinch, "Please, Raoul, he was going to kill you, I only meant to save you, no matter the cost to me."

"Yes, that's why you poured so much passion into your kiss, or should I say kisses?" I hold my ground as she approaches.

"What are you saying?" she yells.

"I'm saying nothing. I'm simply asking where your heart lies," and even without her answering me, I know the answer. She loves neither of us.

"Raoul, I'm sorry," she turns away.

"Do you turn me away because you love him, or because you hate us both?" I sigh, tears forming in my eyes.

"I don't hate you Raoul, or him! I'm just… I don't know…" her voice trails and I turn my back.

Then I make my decision. I know what I must do.

There are voices, close, but not too close, I can still beat them.

"Go Christine, if they find you here, you're dead," I push her away from me slightly.

"What about you?" she yells.

"I'm not the one they're after! You go to them, you get killed, and if they spare you then tell the secrets of your angel, I'm sure he expects no less! Just leave!" I scream and she runs.

I then turn back to the boat and start to steer it back to the home of the Phantom. No man deserves to die the way this mob will kill him. No man deserves to die because a traitor broke his heart.

When I arrive back there is no sign of the man, though the mirrors in the main room are cracked and shattered.

Walking up onto the rocky floor I look for any sign of where he might be. I see a pile of glass, further away, under beautiful drapes hanging over something, and move to see what happened there. I move the drapes aside to see a rock passageway, much like the one behind the mirror that Madame Giry led me down before we reached the stairs. I move inside, careful around the glass, and replace the drapes to hide the entrance, or exit, once more.

Feeling my way along the stones on either side, I realize that I am making few turns. Traveling further up, I see a light, moving, dancing slightly. Still not far from the entrance to this place, I assume that must be him.

I call out to him, "Stop, please!"

The light does stop moving, much to my surprise.

The Phantom's cold, choked voice reaches my ears, "Come to finish me off?"

I look toward the light, and slowly approach. Once I'm able to see his face, I see that there are tears still streaming fresh down his cheeks, "No, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?" that's a good question.

"I don't know," I sigh.

His cold, yet faltering, laughter reaches my ears, "Then leave me alone."

I nod and turn, but quickly draw my sword and run it along his forearm, lightly, just enough to draw blood.

Running back toward the entrance I hear a yell of rage behind me. Smearing his blood and mine, streaming gently from my arm, all over, I emerge just in time to re-hide the entrance before the first of the mob reach the shore. Jumping down to meet them, I look for Christine, and notice she is not there.

"Vicomte, get out of our way!" M. Andre yells.

"Monsieur," I comment, "he is slain. I killed him. I got ahead of you, and I took care of him myself. I sent Christine off before she could watch our fight, though I do not know where she went from here."

The police officer toward the front gives me a strange look, but then turns to the others, "Well, then that's that. Any other person murdered here would have been different, but I don't think that killing a murderer is a crime at all. Now, all of you, go on, before I decide to change my mind on arresting you all for rioting."

I watch as the mob retreats and then let my legs give way from beneath me, causing my knees to smack the floor painfully.

I let out a long breath and I hear a slight flutter behind me, before I can even turn to see what it was, I feel a hand clamp down hard on my shoulder. As I feel a hot and sticky substance start to soak my shirt by the hand, I turn to see blood running over the fingers and onto my clothes. It's him.

"What was that for?" he releases my shoulder and I turn to see him. His eyes are now dry, but his cheeks still shimmer with unforgotten tears.

"What do you mean?" I move to stand, but find my legs still too heavy to move.

He turns his back to me, "Why did you turn them away? They never would have found me!"

I finally find the strength to stand, "You don't know that! Besides, what if they hadn't found you? They would have destroyed your entire home!"

He turns and growls, "And your point is?"

I look into his eyes and see why he's so angry, "You wanted them to kill you…"

He voice is a hoarse whisper, "Yes."

"Why?" I don't hide my disbelief.

He turns from me, but when I force him to look at me again he doesn't protest, "I lost the only one I love. When she kissed me I knew that she didn't love me. I was hurt. Who wants to live when there is nothing left to live for? I have nothing left, Monsieur. I lost my love, without that there is nothing else, my music is dead without love."

I feel tears prick my eyes once more, "If it means anything at all, she didn't leave so she could be with me, she didn't love either of us."

He lowers his head, and I hear a slight sob escape his throat before he straightens once more, "You've done what you came to do, now leave."

I shake my head, "Please, I came to help you. I know that your heart has been broken, but I want to help you."

His voice is more choked than ever, "Then you can help, Monsieur, by leaving me alone!"

I don't want to risk what he could do to me if I don't listen now, for the cut on my arm and the exhaustion from before have taken me to a point that I fear if I were to have to fight I wouldn't be able to defend myself. Acknowledging this and his wishes I slowly retreat back toward the lake.

As I crawl into the boat and start shoving my way to the other shore, I could swear I distinctly hear a whispered 'but thank you any ways' behind me, but that's impossible. It must be the blood loss.

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a/n: thank you for reading, please review! all feedback welcome! 


	2. A Will to Help

a/n: the feedback has been wonderful to read, and has been a big help too! thank you all for reading (even if you haven't reviewed, i do not mind).

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MADAME GIRY POV

Erik, dead? It can't be! The Vicomte, he could never do that. I know the boy, he would have killed for Christine, but Christine would never let Raoul kill Erik.

I look around my room and my eyes fall on the mirror. I stare for a long time before there is a knock at my door, causing me to jump.

I walk over to the door and open it just a crack to see Raoul standing in the hallway looking quite shaken.

I open the door the rest of the way, "What can I do for you, Monsieur?"

"Madame Giry, you know I didn't do it," he quickly admits.

I place a hand on my chest and sigh, "No, I did not think you would."

He smiles and then winces, grabbing his injured arm.

I move to the side and motion for him to enter, before quickly shutting the door behind him.

He continues to stand near the door, but I watch as his legs shake with fatigue, "Please, Monsieur, take a seat before you fall down."

He laughs lightly and sits slowly in the same chair he sat in last time he was here, "Thank you."

I don't answer him, and instead move to my cabinet, where I remove some disinfectant and some bandages. Quickly moving back to his side, I place the items on the table next to him and roll up his sleeve. He takes a quick and shaky breath as I move over the wound, but shows no other sign of pain. As I take off the ruined bandages, however, he clenches his jaw and stifles a cry.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur," I don't bother looking up from what I am doing.

"It's alright," he responds, making a fist and clenching it until his knuckles turn white.

Finishing the re-bandaging job, I lightly replace his sleeve and move to the chair across from him.

He doesn't stare at me, out of modesty and teachings I'm sure. The silence between us is thick, and begging to be broken.

I feel that if I don't speak, no one will, "Monsieur, why are you here?"

He looks down at his hands, "I'm worried, Madame."

"Worried?" I ask incredulously.

He nods and continues to look down.

"About Christine?" I ask, hopeful that it is, indeed, her.

"About the Phantom," he looks up to see my reaction.

I give him one, "Why?"

"Because," he looks me in the eyes, "I know what it feels like now to have your heart broken. His has been shattered."

I cover my mouth with my hand. She ran away? From them both? That explains why she avoided the crowd. But she could have led them to Erik's home, and caught these two in the act of saving each other, it seems.

I calm my voice and respond, "What happened?"

RAOUL POV

So I explain what she missed. I explain all that I know, from when she left me to when I arrived at her room once more.

"Madame," I beg, "I want to help."

She nods in sympathy, "I know, but there is nothing you can do for him. He needs to heal on his own. He needs some time to himself. He meant no rudeness, or harm, when he told you to leave, he simply meant to have some time to think."

I lower my eyes, "I know. But if there is anything that I can do, anything at all, please, let me know!"

A knock at the door surprises us both. She quietly motions for me to follow her, and I do. She hides me in the back of her room, a place that I won't be noticed, but I should be able to see who this is.

I watch as she slowly approaches the door, opens it, and gasps.

Madame Giry is blocking my way and I can only guess who it could be. Surely the Phantom would not wait in the hallway where everyone would notice him.

When Madame Giry does move aside to let her guest in, though, I wish it were the Phantom, for that would be far less troubling.

Instead I watch as Christine, my childhood love, enters, soaking wet and shaking, but seemingly fine. She doesn't deserve to be fine. She does not even understand the extent of what her actions have done.

I watch as Madame Giry disappears to the other side of the room and returns with a towel. As Christine dries her arms off, the two stare at each other with dodging glances, neither willing to be the first to speak.

Madame Giry finally does the polite thing, once again, and starts, "What has happened to you, child?"

With this Christine bursts into sobs. The action used to bring me close to my own tears, but now I only burn with anger.

She finally calms enough to choke out, "I… I think I made… a terrible… mistake."

Madame Giry rolls her eyes slightly, though Christine does not notice, "My dear, how did you do that?"

Christine slows her tears and replies, "It was him! Erik! He pulled me down to his home, screaming of betrayal and heartbreak, and I deserved it! I know I deserved to be yelled at, but his words, they hurt so deep!"

"What happened next, dear?" Madame Giry urges.

She sobs once and continues, "He dragged me into his home, and spoke of me being his bride. 'An eternity of this before your eyes' were his words exactly, and then he gave me a ring. I couldn't do it, and I told him so. Then Raoul came. Oh, Raoul! He was tied to the fence and I had to choose. Either choose Raoul and Raoul and I go free, but he would kill himself, or never see me again at least! Or I could choose Erik, but to choose Erik would be to murder Raoul! Oh, Madame Giry, I couldn't kill either of them, but I knew that I had to choose. So I did. I chose Erik. Oh, poor Raoul! I kissed Erik too, to prove my love. Oh, poor Raoul, having to watch from the side as I kissed my angel! Twice! And then Erik changed. He started to cry and let Raoul and I do free! But I could not leave, not when I was bonded to two men. So I returned Erik's ring. Oh, poor Erik! I don't know what I was thinking. I know it killed him! So I untied Raoul and we went to the other shore, and when we got there, oh Madame! Raoul, he yelled about my betrayal to them both and he screamed at me! Oh, poor me! I ran away from him and hid in the murky underground tunnels. I nearly found my way back when I slipped. There was quite a large puddle and I was soaked! Oh, poor me! Oh, how we all suffered down there!"

Madame Giry gave her a look of mock concern, but her very eyes screamed at her distaste. My nerves were sent burning. How dare she? That little bitch, the only one she cares about is herself! I'm glad that she ran off, no one deserves to suffer a lifetime of her. Not after all that I have now heard.

But wait. Who's Erik? Is that the Phantom's name? Erik. So plain, so unusual, so him.

Madame Giry breaks the lingering silence, "Christine, I think that it would be best if you went back to your room, got dry, and took a long nap. I assure you, from the sound of things Erik will not bother you again."

The words bring back some tears to Chritine's eyes, but do nothing more, and I watch as Christine leaves.

I then move from where I am crouching, and go back to the chair, my legs now thoroughly exhausted.

Madame Giry looks at me for a moment before speaking, "You should go home and rest as well, I will let you know as soon as I can about how Erik is."

I nod, "Thank you, Madame."

Without another word, we part and I quickly summon my carriage home. A long nap sounds like exactly what I need.

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a/n: please review 


	3. A Body to Match a Heart

Going home with blood all over me was not the brightest idea. My brother panicked and I really wasn't allowed to do more than get cleaned up and go to bed. Even as adults, he still rules my life.

It's been four days since I left, and there has still been no word from Madame Giry.

As I lay on my bed, my only thoughts are of dread. What if he has died? What if she forgot? What if she went back to him?

A knock at my door shakes me from my reverie.

Quickly smoothing out my hair, I open the door to see one of the maids, Sarah.

"Yes?" my tone much sharper than I meant.

She falters a moment and then responds, "This came for you, sir." She hands me an envelope and my heart leaps as I recognize Madame Giry's handwriting.

I quickly snatch the letter and open it:

_Victome Raoul de Chagny,_

_You told me to tell you what I knew of Erik. Well, I must apologize, for I know nothing. He has blocked all the entrances and I can not reach him any other way. I was actually hoping that maybe you could get one open. It just takes the right placement of strength that age has stolen from me. I would ask Meg for her help, if I did not fear for her life. You have fought and lived before. Please, come immediately, Erik has been known to take drastic measures, which you know well._

_Madame Giry_

I look back to Sarah, "When did this arrive?"

"Just moments ago sir, I was told it was urgent and brought it to you right away," she wrings her hands nervously.

I nod, "Then inform my brother that I will be going out, and if he asks where, I didn't tell you, and you don't know."

She bows once and leaves, though I barely notice, since I have turned, looking for my traveling cloak. Finding it, and wrapping it around me, I rush to the stables and jump onto my prized horse bareback, taking off for the opera house as fast as I can.

Racing into the stables, I dismount and rush out, leaving the stable crew to tie up my horse, not really caring. Bursting through the front doors, I run to Madame Giry's room, not noticing or caring who sees me.

Reaching her door I knock, frantically. She answers the door within seconds and I finally stop my rush.

"Madame," I gasp, "I just got your letter."

She nods and moves to the side, "Then you know that I am truly sorry that I did not write sooner."

I take more gasps of air, out of breath, "Yes."

She moves to my side, "Oh, I am worried about Erik. He never locks me out, or never before, except the night that he took Christine down, and even then he left one of the entrances open. I understand he's upset, but if he did something drastic, oh God, I don't dare think of it!"

Her words pierce my heart. Would this man kill himself, just from losing his love. I remember the night that I saved him, and I know my answer: yes.

"Please, Madame Giry, show me how to open the entrance, I can do it," I try to encourage her with the last part.

She smiles, "I know you can. First, you must place one hand here," she places a hand toward the bottom of the mirror, and I put my hand where hers is. She then straightens and places her hand right about down the middle on the same side, "And your other hand here." I obey.

I sigh, finding the position quite uncomfortable.

She shrugs, "Then you just push in and slide it to the left."

I heave inwards on it, and it does not move. Again I start to push, and again nothing happens.

"Are you sure this is the only way, Madame?" I turn to her, and she nods.

I groan and start to push once more, this time allowing constant pressure. The mirror starts to give. I keeping pushing and move slightly to my left, pulling the mirror open until it's wide enough for us to squeeze through.

She smiles with relief and I allow myself to stop moving it.

"Thank you," she whispers.

I step back momentarily from the mirror, "You're welcome."

She moves toward the open mirror, "Stay close behind me."

"Wait," I stop, "You want me to follow?"

"Of course!" she yells incredulously, "We must get to Erik."

"But, Madame…" my voice trails.

"You do want to help him, do you not?" she turns to me, having now gone through the mirror.

"Of course," I answer truthfully.

She sighs, "Then stay close behind."

I move through the mirror and obey, staying only a step at the most behind her. The hall leading from her room is more direct then the others. I'm sure that this is not an accident, knowing myself how these two are bonded.

The hallway seems to last forever, showing no signs of the twists and turns that the last path I took down here had. Just when it seems that the path will never end, it stops abruptly at a different entrance to the lake. This one is far more hidden, and also easier to find once you know it is there. Taking a few tentative steps toward the lake, now ahead of Madame Giry, I feel her hand move to my shoulder.

I turn to her and she shakes her head, "Not that way."

I give her a look of unhidden confusion, "It's the only way."

"No," she answers, "It's not."

Not knowing what to say, I follow her to a small ledge beside the lake, almost completely hidden by the water from any other angle. I smile, knowing that only Erik could think up such a brilliant thing. Following her down the path, the only strange sign I notice, besides not seeing Erik himself, is that the gate remains open and unhidden.

We reach the shore and she walks up into what I assume is Erik's room and hear a terrified screech. I run to follow her and automatically recognize the reason for her terror: there is Erik, his pictures of Christine scattered around, and both him and his art in a pool of blood that seems to still be flowing from his arms.

A pained moan that reaches my ear affirms that he is still alive, but barely. I take her and try to steer her out of the room, but she won't let me. Seeing that I am fighting a losing battle trying to calm her, I quickly turn back to Erik and drop to his side. She follows and as I take one of his wrists, trying to stop the bleeding, she takes the other and does the same.

Nearly crying, I watch as the bleeding halts in the wrist that I hold, but I tear my cloak to make a makeshift tourniquet just in case. Thank God my brother forced me to join the Navy, without that I would have no knowledge of how to do any of this!

Letting his hand drop to rest in my lap, I reach up and lift his head out of the blood. He moans and jerks his head away from my touch, but I keep my hand under his head, and he stops fighting, whether from resolve or failing strength I can not tell. Though his head now rests in my arm, his muscles remain tense, as if unwilling to accept this generosity, that or not realizing that it is, in fact, just someone trying to help him.

But then it hits me. No one has helped him before, no one has cared before. No one that I know of has really ever stayed by this man's side and actually cared. No wonder he can't accept this help, he isn't used to it.

When I notice that Madame Giry has stopped the bleeding of Erik's other wrist, I tourniquet that one as well. Moving my right hand so that it is under his head, and the other so that I have support under his knees, I heave Erik off the ground. Once his limp body is in the air, I watch as blood drips back into the pool, having only absorbed slightly into his clothing.

"It's fresh," I comment.

Madame Giry turns to me, "What?"

"The blood," I motion toward the pool beneath my feet, "it's fresh. It hasn't had time to absorb into his clothes, it's dripping. That means the blood is still fresh."

She nods in numb understanding.

I look down to the pale man in my arms, "Is there anywhere that I can take him to lie down?"

She stands, "Yes, follow me."

She leads me into a room, and as we enter her hand moves to her mouth, but she shows no other signs of emotion. I don't see the big deal though, it's just a room with a small swan-shaped bed and some torn paper on the walls. Then I realize that the paper is the corner of drawings, works of art. This must be where those pictures of Christine came from.

Moving next to the bed, I gently pull the sheets away, remove Erik's bloodied coat, and lay him down on the seemingly comfortable bed. Keeping his arms out of the covers, I gently pull the covers to his neck.

"What can we do now?" I turn to her.

She shrugs, "Now, we can wait, and pray that he wakes up."

So we do, or we start to wait, minute by minute.

I let my eyes roam over Erik's body and find myself drawn to the uncovered half of his face. So handsome.

What am I saying? He is a man!

So? He's very handsome. That means nothing more than looks.

Or does it?

No, it can't, I mean, I can't like this man, I barely know him, besides, he would kill me first chance he gets.

Still, it's something to think about.

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a/n: please review! 


	4. Waiting

Waiting is surprisingly a lot of work.

About an hour after I placed Erik in the bed, we noticed the sheets wet, for a different reason. Blushing bright red, Madame Giry and I quickly got him out of the bed. I got him to the chamber pot, and in the most modest way possible, helped his unconscious form relieve itself. Holding him still as the urine that was left leaked it's way out of his crippled form into the chamber pot, I lightly started to run my fingers through his hair, in an almost soothing manner. Knowing the male anatomy made this task no less embarrassing, and knowing that eventually I would have to admit what had happened to him made things even worse. Coming back into the room I saw Madame Giry had changed the sheets, and she told me that I had to change Erik into different clothes. Again, not the easiest thing to do modestly, but I did my best.

Not long after this, Madame Giry placed her hand on his forehead, and immediately went off. Returning with a bucket of ice water and some small wash cloths, she explained that Erik was feverish, and that we would need to try to cool him off. I never would have guessed that he was feverish, his body felt so cold to my touch. The blood loss had done nothing to his already pale complexion, and his skin was already stone cold before, or, so Christine had said.

Now, ten hours into his recovery, Erik has made his first sign of being functional, moaning and allowing a hand to slide higher up on his stomach.

Strangely, the small act brings a smile of satisfaction to my face, as I rewet one of the cloths and gently wipe some sweat off his brow. He flinches, again bringing a slight unconscious smile to my face. Even if it is flinching from my touch, he has made signs of waking up.

Seemingly reading my thoughts, Madame Giry speaks up, "He'll do this for a long time, his body drifting into a lighter sleep. Do not be fooled, he will not wake up for a very long time still."

My smile disappears and she notices, "Do not be discouraged, Monsieur. He will wake up. He has proven this by drifting almost into consciousness. It shows he is fighting."

MADAME GIRY POV

Fighting indeed. This is a battle where the odds, I am afraid, are against my child. Though Erik may not be my blood, he is still my child. I watch over him as a mother does, and I care for him as a mother should. He explained how his real mother hated him, and feared him. In learning this I made a silent vow to make up for the cruelties he faced, and to do my best to give him a better life.

This is not the better life I had in mind. This life is filled with solitude, fear, death, pain, and heartbreak. I never wanted this to be his life, I never meant to condemn this man to a Hell on this planet. This man, my child, deserves to live in the palaces of heaven to make up for the cruelties he has faced. I can not give him a palace, I can not give him riches like no other, but I can care, and I can love. I know that it is not much, but it must be worth something.

RAOUL POV

Fighting. That's what this is for him, though I never realized it until now. This is just a fight for him. A fight that I am going to help him win. I promised myself that I would help him, and that's what I intend to do. I can not do much, I know that I am just the spoiled brother of a rich Comte, but I am proud that I know that I can be here helping someone who needs it.

That's all I've ever really wanted too, I guess. I mean, the stress of my normal life is certainly not something that I am proud of. I hate it all, I hate having to live up to a title I never asked for, just so my brother can give me fake praise and pat me on the back. That's not what I really wanted from the start. I wanted freedom. So my brother signed me up for the Navy. I didn't want to go, I thought there would be even less freedom there. Strangely, there was more.

Out on the sea, I felt relaxed, almost at home. I loved being able to wake up in the morning to the slight churning of the boat on the waves, and even more, I loved the smell of the fresh sea air. Everything on the sea represented all that I longed for at home: freedom.

I turn back to Erik as he stirs a bit more and sighs. Staring at his face, I long to remove the mask that still covers half his face. I've seen the marred features before, and at first I will admit the sight deterred me, recoiling at the thought of him touching me. But then I started to accept that if even he wishes to rid himself of the troubling features, than I could look past them and see the true man beneath. This man taught me things without knowing it. He taught me to see past a man's face, and see into his feelings. That's why I want to help, because despite his scarred appearance, this man has a tortured soul. I know he won't let me help heal it, but I can always try.

Reaching out, I do remove the mask, and before Madame Giry can protest, I lightly run a cool wet cloth down the deformities of his face. Erik's hand, even in sleep, moves to cover his face. I lightly take his hand and set it back down on his stomach, continuing to mop the fine coating of sweat that has been building on his skin this entire time.

Finishing and setting the cloth back into the water, I look over to see Madame Giry staring at me.

"What?" my voice sounds defensive, childish.

She shakes her head, "Even I could never do such a thing to him."

"What?" again my voice sounds like a five year olds.

"Take off his mask," she gestures to his deformed face, "and touch his face."

"Madame," I sit up straight, regaining age in my voice, "you said you love him like a mother."

She nods, "I did. But I know Erik, and I know how foolish it is to remove his mask. He judges himself."

I look back to his prone form, "Well, maybe he shouldn't be so hard on himself."

She gives me a strange glance, but then returns to her work of cleaning Erik's right hand, seeing as how his movements caused him to start to bleed again.

I stand, taking the bucket of water, and go to get more. The past twelve hours, seeing as how it has been twelve hours now, have been hectic and the water nearly has disappeared.

Going into the makeshift kitchen, I see a few larger bowls, and I take one of them, filling both the bucket and the bowl with ice water. Returning to Madame Giry and Erik, I lightly take Erik's left wrist, un-bandage it, and rest it in the large bowl of water. Gently, taking a clean cloth, I start to wash his hand, still caked with dry blood. Moving around his hand in caressing circles, I watch as the water turns a deep red, and I left his hand out of a moment, making sure that only dry blood is coming off. Confirming this, I gently move his hand back to the water and continue to wash. Eventually cleaning his hand, I lift his limb out of the water and start to move the cloth around the wrist, careful not to touch the wound. All the same, he winces if I even draw close. Taking another cloth and wetting it in the clean bucket of water, I wrap it lightly around his entire wrist, receiving a hiss of pain.

Setting the wrist gently on the bed, with a towel underneath to keep the sheets dry, I leave to dump the water out and refill the bowl. Returning I repeat the same process with his left wrist. The second time was worse, he seemed to have cut deeper with his right slashing his left then his left slashing the right. It's probably because he slashed the left side first.

I go into the kitchen again, rinsing out the bowl when I feel a light hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Madame Giry. She stops the water, cleverly set up to run from the lake. I turn around completely from the sink and she smiles, handing me a towel. As I dry my hands I notice for the first time that my hands are shaking.

She smiles again, "Monsieur, get some rest. There is a chair in the room, which I fear may be the only place to sleep left."

I shake my head, "I'm fine."

"You're trembling," she comments, "and you haven't taken a break. Sleep for a little while, and then you can take your turn watching him."

I nod and stifle a yawn. Going back into the room, I move to the far corner to a comfortable looking chair. Sitting down, sleep takes me almost instantly.

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a/n: please review 


	5. A Man Worth Saving

It's been ten days. Erik's drifted close to waking up a few times, only to fall away again. He was closest two days ago, actually responding to voices around him, and with this new revelation we replaced his mask, but then he fell back, away, into his deepest sleep yet. Which is where I find him now.

Turning around, I see Madame Giry asleep in the chair. Her shift ended about thrity minutes ago. We've been working in six-hour shifts, but sometimes when neither of us can sleep we work together. Today was that case earlier, but she started to crash right at the end, and I let her take my turn to sleep. I'm not tired.

Still keeping my eyes on anything but Erik, finding that hard to do now, the pain far too great, I hear a slight moan. Looking to Madame Giry and expecting it to be her, I see she is sleeping as peacefully as ever. Then there is a second moan and I turn to Erik.

He's tossed to his left side, the most he's moved since we put him here and I move to push him back when I see his eyes fluttering. He's waking up! I want to rush to wake up Madame Giry, but I don't want to leave his side.

One of his eyes opens and then closes with a wince.

"The light!" his voice is hoarse from not being used, so it wasn't enough to jolt Madame Giry awake.

Quickly I blow out the candles and he opens his eye again. Then the other opens too. I smile slightly and move closer.

"How are you?" I whisper.

He backs off when he hears my voice, "Go away!"

I back off two steps but I don't leave, "What's wrong?"

"Just," he scrambles back on his right arm to escape, causing him to cry out, "leave me!"

I don't move and I watch as Madame Giry, now up and alert, moves to Erik's side, "Hush, Erik."

He lets her wrap her arms around him and curls into her like a scared child, "He's going to kill me."

The words hurt, but I don't let him see this.

Madame Giry backs up and scolds him, "Erik, you stop this madness! The viscount has not left your side the last ten days. He has been helping me take care of you."

"Who says," he struggles in her grasp, but she holds him tightly, "that I need help?"

In his struggles he catches his wrist in a bunch of covers. Yanking his arm, he cries out in pain and I move to his side without thinking.

He gives me a strange, untrusting, look and Madame Giry smiles, "You see? He wants to help."

"I don't… need… help!" Erik screams, finally breaking free of her arms, "And I don't want any either!"  
She gives him a sad look, "Erik, your wrists…"

"Yes," he agrees, "my wrists. I meant for those to kill me! I don't want pity anymore! I don't want life. But that's all I've gotten these past, how many did you say? Ten days? That's all I've gotten for the past ten days, I'm sure, pity." The last word is spat.

I decide to speak for the first time, "If it means anything at all, I didn't stay here to pity you, I stayed here to help. If that means nothing, then I'll leave."

Turning to retreat, I leave the room, and make it half way to the shore when I hear Madame Giry yell, "Erik, don't!"

I turn to see Erik in the doorway, legs shaking beneath him and face turning from pale to a slight green. He takes a step toward me and I turn to face him completely.

He gasps, "You stayed here… to help me… even after all I did to you?"

I nod, "Yes."

He takes another few steps, "That's… really… stupid… you know?"

"I do now," I turn from him and start to walk again.

His last words are barely a whisper, "Thank you."

I turn around and see his knees giving out and him grasping onto a table in a desperate attempt to stay standing. Instincts kicking in once more, I rush to his side and wrap an arm around his waist, holding him up. His face has gone bright green and I lower him to his knees just in time to get behind him as he doubles over, retching. I hold his body very still until he finishes, and I then lift him and see Madame Giry coming toward us with some cloths, a bucket and a mop.

She sets down the items and goes to pick up Erik's mask, which had been thrown off of his face from the violence of the heaves. She leaves us again, going to the kitchen to clean the mask off.

Erik lowers his head, "Sorry."

I gently hold him, almost like a parent would a child, "Don't be, Erik, don't be."

He turns with a sudden violence, the left side of his face the only side showing, and I know he doesn't trust me yet, "Who told you my name?"

Madame Giry comes in from behind us, "That would have been me."

He glares at her as she takes a cloth and wipes the vomit off of his mouth, and then roughly replaces his mask, "Why? I didn't tell you to let him know! It's not his business!"

She stands defensively, "Erik, this man has been watching over you for the past ten days. If you can not give him the courtesy of allowing him to use your proper name, then you don't deserve anything that he has done for you, and yet, he has done it anyway!"

Erik lowers his head again, knowing that this is the truth.

He then turns to me, "My apologies, viscount."

I shake my head, "You are already forgiven. I don't expect you to trust me, and I don't ask for your trust. I only wish to help."

He asks the question I knew would come: "Why?"

"Because, when I first met you, I judged you. I judged you because of your face," he lowers his head in a 'you and all the others' way, but I continue, "but then, after that night, after you nearly killed me, you showed me something beyond that face, and under the madness that I had only expected from you. That night, you showed me that you would give your love up to me, you loved her, but you would not force her to stay with you. I saw you for a moment, I saw the man in you, and not the Phantom. Monsieur, Erik, that man is worth helping, and I knew it then. I told Christine off for hurting you and I both, and then I returned, and when I did, there was no Phantom, there was a man. You may not be a man that is held in high regards, Erik, but you are a man worth saving… you have a beautiful soul, and I would really find it a shame if it went to waste on loving someone like Christine."

Oh please tell me I didn't just say that.

From the look he gives me, I did.

Why would I say something so intimate to a man that hates me? Oh please tell me this didn't just happen.

He, thankfully, can not respond, for as he moves to speak, a strike of pain hits him, he cries out. I try to get him to relax, but as hold him, his body goes limp, and I realize he has passed out.

I hold his body to me, again not thinking, and when I look to Madame Giry she attacks, "What are your intentions, Monsieur?"

"I mean no harm if that's what you mean," I look back down to him, "I couldn't hurt him."

She grins, "Well, yes, you've proved that. Monsieur, could I safely say your eye has been caught by another?"

I think, "I don't know." The answer sounds almost sad.

She smiles, "Well, I think that I can safely say that Erik is in good hands."

I watch as she turns to leave along the path and I call out, "Wait! What do you mean? Where are you going?"

She turns to me, "Monsieur, you sent a note to tell your brother that you would be out, me, I have said nothing. I went missing for ten days. I'm sure that Meg has handled things, but I must end the suspicion, I will return later."

"But," I stutter out, "Madame-"

"You'll do fine," she comments before turning and disappearing down the path.

Nodding, and knowing no one can see that I have, I carefully lift Erik in my arms and move him back to the bed. The fool, the complete fool! He chased me, but why? I understand guilt, but he wouldn't admit to guilt, would he? Do I know my Phantom as well as I think I do?

Well, it's pointless to question these things now, there will be no answer.

Pulling the covers up once more, I then leave to take care of the mess that we have left out in the main room. Mopping up the remnants of something that Erik, surprisingly, still held in stomach, I wash off and then sigh, looking out toward the lake.

It's really something. This home that he has built for himself. Not many people hold a talent as great as he does. And this is not his only talent. That play that he wrote, that Don Juan Triumphant, was truly amazing. I walk around and see all the artwork lying around. One painting catches my attention, though I don't know why it would. It's actually all a series of the same thing, all in different impressions. It seems to be a garden of some sort. It is a beautiful garden too, with flowers lining the entirety, except for one lone tree, surrounded by bushes, which seem to be rose bushes. I long to touch the beautiful pieces of art, but fear ruining the beautiful picture, so I settle for staring, just staring, and imagining that it's real, and that this home is that garden. In doing so, I find myself lost in thought for hours.

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a/n: please review, all feedback welcome! 


	6. Handsome

Finally deciding that I should return, I walk back into the room to find Erik wide-awake. He watches as I enter with a quick emotion that flashes over his face, quickly hidden by neutrality. If I didn't know better I would say the emotion had been relief.

I move to his side, "Why didn't you call out? I would have come."

He blushes slightly, turning away, "I thought you had both left."

I shake my head, "Only Madame Giry, she had to go, she needed to talk to Meg, and she has an important role in this Opera House."

"So do you," he comments.

"Well," I laugh lightly and grin, "I'm on vacation, for all they know."

He laughs lightly and the sound is like an angel's voice, perfect, "This is true."

"I sent a note to my brother, telling him that I needed a break to "recover from my injuries". He will never know the difference, he doesn't really care," the last part sounds a little sad, so I turn and smile, "It won't matter if I'm missing for a couple of days."

"It's been ten," he points out.

"So?" I shrug, "I like it here… it's more peaceful than my house. Besides, you need someone here with you."

Erik glares at me, "No, I don't."

"Yes you do, admit it," I shrug, "besides, if you didn't want me here than you wouldn't have stopped me."

He looks down, then back at me, "Did you mean what you said?"

He doesn't need to tell me about what, I know, "Yes."

Turning from me, he looks into the distance, "You have to be blind then, viscount."

I look at him in shock, "What? Why?"

"Because," he looks at me, and the look in his eyes breaks my heart, "no one can care for a creature so dark and cold as me."

"Hi, my name is no one, glad to meet you," I laugh.

He doesn't, "Stop that."

"I'm sorry," my smile disappears, "I just can't stand seeing you so upset. Is it really that hard to believe that someone could care about you?"

He's in tears when he turns to answer, "After being despised by your own mother, tortured by gypsies, shunned by society, and by your one true love, you would think that someone caring about you was impossible. So yes, it is really that hard to believe."

I look at him sadly, "Erik…"

"Don't look at me that way," he growls.

I look down and then back at him, and kiss him lightly on the forehead, barely a brush of lips, "Well, know that someone does care, whether you want him to or not."

His head drops and sound that resembles a sob escapes him before he turns back to me in neutrality, "I'll keep that in mind."

I smile and ask, "Do you need anything?"

"Not from you," he comments, trying to push himself out of bed, only to cause himself more pain. His jaw clenches as he holds back a cry.

"What do you need?" I rush.

"To… get up," he hints.

I turn away in embarrassment and understanding, and reach for a chamber pot, having brought one in after the one little accident.

I sit him up and then move to leave, before I hear him softly admit, "I can't stand…"

I turn back to him and hold him up, looking away as he relieves himself and only turning when he tells me I can.

I lay him back down and he asks, "Why was that in here?"

I blush, knowing that I would have had to tell him this eventually, "You had an accident not long after you went into that comma. We had to be able to get you to one quick, so we brought it in here."

He blushes as well and turns away in embarrassment.

An uncomfortable silence falls on us and I find myself having to ask, "What's that garden?"

He looks at me in surprise, "How do you know about that?"

"I saw the paintings," I admit.

"Oh," he looks down at his bandaged wrists, "I don't like to talk about that."

"Please?" I beg.

"If I never told Madame Giry, why should I tell you," his tone is cold, sending shivers through me.

I look down like a beaten child, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

He nods, "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have been so cold. You're right, you didn't know. Now you do though."

I nod and smile weakly.

ERIK POV

So this man, this boy is the one who took care of me?

He is sort of handsome.

What am I saying? I am not attracted to this man.

But he might be attracted to me.

Never, that's impossible.

But he practically admits it.

I catch myself staring at him and quickly turn away. Why would it matter? Even if I liked him he would never accept that he loves me.

Making sure he doesn't see me, I lift one hand to my forehead, the skin burning where his lips pressed not too long ago. Finding the position painful I quickly bring my hand back down. Holding onto the pined wrist, I find holding it worse. Hissing, I watch as he turns to me, and I keep my eyes on my wrist, trying not to start staring again.

He reaches to take my hand I a flinch a little at his touch.

He looks me in the eyes. My God his eyes are beautiful.

His voice reaches my ears and shakes me from my thoughts, "I won't hurt you."

"I-I know," I barely find my voice.

Taking my hand, he gently pulls it toward him and turns it over. I see that there's blood seeping through the bandages.

He turns and grabs some fresh bandages, shedding the ones I have on now and quickly pressing down on the wound. I howl in pain and he hushes me. I hold back tears threatening the corner of my eyes. Biting on my lip, I try to get my thoughts more toward the pain there then in my wrists. It works slightly, just enough for him to finish and replace the old bandages with new ones. Drawing back, his hands are covered in blood, my blood.

I don't like seeing him like this, with blood coating his hands, especially it being my blood. He didn't do this to me. I see that now.

"I'll be right back," he stands, not touching anything, and I watch as he leaves.

Seconds later he returns, the blood having been washed off.

Another uncomfortable silence settles.

Raoul breaks it, "Why'd you do it?"

I'm thrown by the question, but then I contemplate it. I don't even know if I have a good answer.

"I guess," I start, "I thought that you had stolen the love of my Christine from me, and I had convinced myself of that. I sat there for three days, thinning my blood with alcohol, and the further into the blur of wine I went the harder that thought pounded on me. The fourth day with no sleep and only alcohol as nourishment I was sent over the edge when I thought I heard her coming. I couldn't live with it, so I tried to kill myself before she got to me. But it wasn't her, it was you and Madame Giry. All I remember before blacking out was that you were the first to my side. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he whispers.

I nod, and he starts, "And now, I have a question for you."

"Alright, fair is fair," I point out.

"You were staring at me earlier, why?" I look at him incredulously.

"I guess I was just wondering why you would care enough to save a monster," I lie.

He shakes his head, "You aren't a monster."

"How could you say that?" I growl.

"Because," he smiles his brilliant smile, "monsters are ugly and shameful creatures. You're not like that, you're too artistic, too handsome."

I frown, "Is this just a joke to you?" Tearing off my mask, painfully, I point to my deformed face, "How can you say that this, this, disgustingly twisted face, this deformed face, is handsome? Are you blind or just cruel?"

His face stays calm as he takes my mask and sets it on the bed. He moves so that he's sitting on the bed, and then moves my hand down. Moving his own hand to my face, he gently runs his fingers down my deformity. The touch is a caress, and though I flinch away at first, I eventually lean into his caress.

"I see no deformed face, only a handsome man, with a beautiful face," he gently whispers.

I look at him in shock and then he whispers, "Erik, may I, please, if its not too much, may I… kiss you?"

Though the question shocks me, and everything within me screams to protest against this, I don't move. Seeing his chance, he slowly closes the distance between our lips. And as his lips cover mine, I know that there is now a place in this world for me.

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a/n: all feedback appreciated 


	7. One Chance

His lips dance over mine, softly, in a slight kiss, before pulling back, leaving my lips warm. The heat and friction behind the kiss caresses my senses into a buzz. It sends doubt shooting through me as well.

Does he really love me, or is he just making me a fool? Why does he want me to kiss him? Could my feelings of attraction be returned? How could he love such a worthless creature?

I back off slightly and he looks a little hurt.

I touch my lips and whisper, "How could you love me enough to do that? To want to do that?"

He looks at me helplessly, "I don't know. But since the first day that I left you I missed your presence and after I came back it was all I could do not to stare at you. You might not seem it, and it may not be clear to you, but we are a lot alike."

I try to hide my feelings, because unlike him, I see how wrong this is, "So what if we're alike? That makes no difference in the natural order. We are not meant to be together."

His head bows, "I know. But I can't help it. I find myself drawn to you."

I remain silent.

He takes this as something good and continues, "Besides, if you really felt the way that you speak, you wouldn't have let me kiss you."

I consider that. It has to be true. I know that this is wrong, but do I really care? No, I don't, and that scares me.

"My heart, viscount, has steered me wrong before, and I won't let that happen again," I growl, knowing I speak the truth.

He takes my hand, "Then let me show you that your heart can't be wrong all the time! Have I not proven myself, even more than Christine, just by wanting to be with you? And possibly further when I stayed by your side, despite your face, despite your yells? And have I not proven that I love you by asking to kiss you?"

I lower my eyes, knowing how true his words are, and yet still not able to trust myself.

He turns in one last plea, "Please, if you give me this chance, just this one chance, and I don't prove to be truly in love, than you can forget me, I'll leave and you'll never see me again. Just please, give me this one chance…"

I turn to look into his eyes, and they plead more than his words, and my heart breaks. My voice comes out choked, "Alright, you have your chance."

He smiles, but seems hesitant to do more, so I pull him closer to me, our lips nearly touching. I don't know what to do, I've never really kissed someone, only been kissed, and that was far from anything like this. My lips part slightly as they brush against his, hesitantly, and I can taste his smile. I let my hand gently cup the back of his neck, pulling him slightly forward. To do so, I feel him inch toward me on the bed, letting us both sit straight as his hips settle inches from mine. I let my other hand find its way to his back as both his hands move to press against my chest. I let my mouth open wider, tasting more of him in the kiss. My mouth opens and so do my teeth, allowing myself to suckle and bite his bottom lip, earning a pleased whimper from deep in his throat, and a moan from deep within my own. Instincts take over and my tongue slides past my teeth and gently begs to be let in. To my delight his lips part and my tongue plunges into the depths of his mouth. I let my tongue move smoothly through the cavern of his mouth, his taste pleasant and inviting. Finally finding my lungs about to explode I pull back, leaving only centimeters between our mouths.

Gasping for air, I lick my lips, savoring the remnants of where he was.

He looks at me in mild surprise, then claims my lips in a small, quick, kiss before daring to place a hand on my face.

The embrace is strangely inviting and I lean into his hand. He hesitantly wraps a hand around my waist and slowly pulls me to him. I gladly comply, having never felt the gentle brush of a lover's touch. He gently places my head on his chest and as I lean toward his warmth, he smiles and lays back on the headboard-like swan. I smile and let my hand reach for his.

This he protests to, "Erik, you shouldn't do that. Your wrists are in no shape to be moving."

I frown at him and he sighs, taking my hand in his own. I smile and so does he. I never really had time to look at his smile before. It's so perfect, the way it shines, the way it seems to live. My smile is dead.

I look away and he quickly starts, "What's wrong?"

Sadly, reluctantly, I meet his gaze, "How could someone like you, so alive, so bright, want to be near a dead and decaying creature like me?"

He holds me tighter, "What are you talking about? Dead? I've never met a more brilliantly alive person."

"You must be talking about the wrong person," I comment.

He shakes head, "Not unless you're an imposter."

"Oh yes," I joke, "didn't you know?"

He laughs, "I never would have guessed."

Smiling, I continue, "Perfect, my plan is working, the humans are quite oblivious."

Giving me a fake hurt look, he then grins, "Hey, what's this about us humans?"

Just then an alarm goes off, ruining our fun.

He jumps to attention and I put an arm up on his chest, "It's just an alarm. Someone's coming."

He gently lays me back down and stands at attention, ready to fight if he had to. No one's ever done this for me before, no one ever cared about protecting me.

When I hear the steady footsteps approaching, I take Raoul's hand. He gently sits beside me once more, still at attention.

When Madame Giry comes in he looks to me, feeling like a fool.

Madame Giry smiles at me, "How are you feeling?"

I wince as I let go of Raoul's hand, "Like shit."

"Erik!" she scolds.

"What?" I shrug, "You asked."

She turns back to Raoul, ignoring me, "There's a letter here for you."

"From who?" he asks as she hands it to him.

She doesn't answer.

After he reads the note though, I'm almost afraid of the furry in his eyes.

Dropping the note she clenches his hand and it seems to take all of his strength not to pound the wall into gravel.

I take the note and read:

_Raoul,_

_I know that this is not the way to end things, but this is how I must do it, in fear of what might happen if we were to meet face to face again. I apologize for the inconvenience, but the wedding is off. I also think that it would be best if we never saw each other again. I understand that you might still wish for us to remain friends, but I fear that this would be impossible. Good bye._

Christine 

The ring was attached to the bottom.

When I look back to Raoul, he's almost in tears.

I understand that he may not love her, or maybe he still does, but I definitely know that they were friends before, and that she probably hurt him worse saying they can't be friends. I reach out to try to comfort him, but in his furry he stands and leaves the room. I want to follow, but I know my place. He needs time.

I whimper slightly as he leaves, but show no other signs of hurt. That would be selfish. I think, though, when he comes back, it will be my turn to try to help.

RAOUL POV

How dare she? How dare she! That little bitch!

A tear escapes my eye and I angrily wipe it away. She's right, I had wanted us to remain friends, I had wanted us to still be able to talk and comfort, and I wanted to be able to smile when I saw her face, if only for one last time. This, though, can never happen, not after what she wrote, not after what she's done.

I scream in pain and furry and listen as it echoes off the walls. The sound reminds me of an animal and I start to cry. I drop to the floor and start to cry. How could she? She doesn't know what she's done.

If that's how she wants it, though, then that's what she'll get. If she hates me enough to want to leave me, then let her. I don't need her anymore.

I don't love her anymore.


	8. Chapters 8 through 11

A/N: I AM SO SORRY! I have nearly given up on this which is why this took so long! I had no time to go through what i had typed so sorry for any really bad errors! This is chapters 8, 9, 10, and 11! please enjoy! again, so so sorry!

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When I walk back in, Madame Giry has sat down next to Erik, tending to one of his wrists, as Erik sits solemnly, eyes on the doorway, waiting for me. Now I see why I was attracted to this man, he's loyal, something that Christine can not say about herself. Loyalty is important in a relationship. I had been loyal to her, but she would run to me when it fit her needs, and then run to him when it fit as well.

Slowly I walk back to the bed, and I see that he has left room for me to sit. What an angel…

He doesn't press for me to say anything when I sit, he doesn't want to know, he doesn't want to hurt. Again, a reason that I learned to love him. I guess that I've always been drawn to him, his voice, but when she left, that's when I realized that I had fallen for him, that's when I knew I was in love.

As I sit, he takes my hand and holds it lightly. I smile weakly at him and he squeezes my hand in support. I don't want to break eye contact, but I do as tears threaten to fall. I look straight ahead, and try not to blink, yet a tear betrays me, running slowly down my cheek. I feel a limp hand lightly brush it away and I look down to see Erik, there for me, wanting to help me. He wants to help _me_ now. _He_ wants to help me now.

I weakly smile down at him and he smiles, just a weak, back.

Madame Giry stands and leaves the room in silence, carrying a bucket of bloody water with her. I watch her leave with a numbing sensation spreading through me. I don't like it.

I want to yell, to scream, to cry, but I can't bring myself to that level. Erik takes my one hand in both of his own and lightly squeezes it. I finally choose crying as the least destructive thing to do, and let the tears pour out of me. Erik quickly, and painfully, struggles into a sitting position, holding me close. I allow him to embrace me, but I don't lean in, in fear of furthering his injuries. I carefully wrap an arm around his back and hold him tight.

His voice comes as a pleasant surprise, "Hush, Raoul, hush. It's alright. We know that her leaving us is for the better."

I pull back enough to look into his face, "You think that's why I'm crying?"

He shrugs, "I don't know."

I laugh lightly, "I wouldn't cry about that. I know what you say is true. I'm upset that she wouldn't even allow us to be friends, to see each other one more time. We've been friends since childhood. That's what hurts, not the breaking of the marriage, but the breaking of a different bond."

He nods and I laugh, "Then again, why should it make any difference? The bitch tore out both our hearts already."

"Raoul," Erik scolds me, harshly.

I lower my head, "I'm sorry… I just can't stand her winning like this."

He nods, "I know, I know, but you have to calm down. Everything is done with now, and there's no going back. You have to move on."

"You didn't," I point out.

He lowers his head and I know that I have gone too far.

When he answers, his voice is distant, "It's something that I regret."

I pull him closer to me, resting his head on my chest, "Shh, don't think about that. I'm sorry I brought it up."

The way his breath comes out slowly, I can't tell if he's content or annoyed. I hope it's the former. I look down and see his eyes have closed and a smile is tugging at the sides of his lips. I feel my own trying to sneak across my face, though I don't allow it to.

I lightly run a hand down the upper half of his left arm and I watch the smile spread. I can't help but smile along with him. Then he opens his eyes and the smile is gone.

"You shouldn't be sorry," he looks up at me, "you have nothing to be sorry about."

I shake my head, "Yes, I do. I hurt you."

"No," he forces extra emphasis on the word, "You have done nothing. It was her. But, she's gone now, we'll never have to see her again. We can stay together, forever."

I look down at him and his face shows nothing to me, no emotion, not reflecting a word of what he has said, but his eyes betray him. I look deep into his eyes, and there is a longing buried there. A longing for love. A longing for me.

I smile and lightly cup his left cheek, his right cheek once again covered by the mask, and he leans into it, not needing words.

A knock at the doorway alerts us once more to Madame Giry's presence.

I let my hand fall, and I feel Erik shift slightly, so he's pressed more against my stomach. My arm circles his waist and he smiles. So does she.

I look over at her and she quickly controls her smile, though it still plays at her lips, "Monsieur, your brother has also sent word. He stated that he would be arriving tomorrow, early morning, with the hopes of finding out why you are here."

Erik almost cowers in my arms, and I pull him tighter to me and whisper, "I could never tell him about you, he'd hurt you, but what else can I say?"

He looks up at me, helplessly, and Madame Giry cuts in, "Why can't you tell him?"

"He'd kill Erik!" I yell and Erik buries himself further in my embrace.

"What?" she smirks, "For helping me with a friend?"

I look up at her, "Helping a friend, Madame?"

"What did you tell your brother about the cuts on your arm?" she questions.

I look up at her, then back at Erik, "That I was in the mob, trying to save Christine, and that the mob got out of hand."

"Well, what harm could you be doing in helping another man that you met in the mob that you also saved from their madness, even if he was not so lucky?" she asks slyly.

I shake my head, "Madame, he knows of the Opera Ghost, he knows of the house by the lake, and he knows of the Opera Ghost's mask. He would recognize Erik, Madame. Being the Comte de Chagny gives him wonderful perks, according to him, including sources in the middle of all different areas. He knows everything that happens here."

She sighs, "Then he would know about this."

"Let me rephrase," I think for a moment, trying to grasp the proper wording, "He knows everything that happens on the main level of the Opera Populaire, nothing below."

She rolls her eyes, "And who would be the source that tells him all of this."

I heave a sigh, but luckily Erik cuts in, "Madame, the Comte de Chagny has been in the middle of quite the affair with la Sorelli for some time now."

She looks mildly surprised, but at the same time like she knew this all along, "Well, then she would know of what happened during Don Juan Triumphant, and would eagerly tell him."

"I would think so, yes," I agree.

She pauses a moment then turns to leave, "This is between you and Erik now. Just remember that you're to meet him in front of the managers' office at nine-tomorrow morning. Good day."

As her footsteps disappear into the distance, I tighten my grip on Erik, "I wouldn't give you away like that."

He nods, "I know."

I sigh, "But what can I do?"

He takes my hand gently, and I don't protest. I start to relax as his fingers caress my stressed out limb. My entire body is stressed, but this will have to do.

"Please," I look down at him, "I don't want to tell him about you, I don't want him to hurt you."

He looks up from my hand and into my eyes, "Do you really think he would harm me?"

I shake my head, "I don't know."

He nods, his face falling back to look at my hand, still being caressed. I think about what he said. Would my brother hurt him? He has never been one for abandoning sanity, and me falling in love with another man is truly insane, but still, would he actually hurt Erik? When I found out about la Sorelli, I kept his secret. Would he be willing to keep mine?

Yes. My brother may be strict, but he has a heart. Besides, I don't have to tell him that we're in love, just that I'm helping an injured friend.

I look down at Erik, "No."

He stops caressing my hand, "No what?"

"No," I repeat, "he wouldn't hurt you."

He smiles weakly at me, then scoots more toward the side of the bed.

"Lay down," he commands, and I listen.

Laying so that my back is pressed against the bed, I feel a sudden and pleasant weight on my chest. I look down to see Erik, his upper body leaning against me, his head lying on my chest.

"Rest," he whispers, almost on a breath, and slowly my eyes close, surrendering myself to sleep.

* * *

CHAPTER 9 STARTS HERE

* * *

What feels like only minutes later, I feel something shaking my shoulder. Reluctantly opening my eyes, I see Erik's face, a pleasant surprise, and his hand is on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I quickly and gently reach up, taking his hand in my own, and a smile spreads across his face.

"Don't hurt yourself," I scold, lightly.

"I'm fine," he kisses my cheek and a smile creeps along my face as well.

I look around, "What time is it?"

He points to a small clock at the back of the room: 8 in the morning.

I nod and force myself into a sitting position, and then I look back to him, "I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

He nods, "I trust your decision."

I shake my head, "I don't."

He lightly brushes his lips over my knuckles, and whispers, "There is a bathroom right next door, though I'm sure you know that already. You didn't really bring many clothes, I can tell, but one of my old suits may fit you, my old wardrobe is right there." He points to the far corner and I barely notice the dark wood against the shadows.

I nod and get up, going to look for a suit worthy of being a Vicomte's. That's no problem though. All the suits are fine tailored, and hand crafted. They also, unfortunately, are the Phantom's, leaving little but black to choose from. I rarely wear black, and my brother knows that. I finally find a midnight colored suit at the far end and pull it out, holding it in front of me. It should fit well enough.

He smiles at the choice as I walk from the room.

ERIK POV

An old suit, but one of my favorites. The Vicomte has fine taste, either that, or he hates black. Probably both.

I wait patiently until he returns to the room. Even without the suit being made for him, he still looks stunning in it. I've rarely seen him in such a dark color, and I must admit that he is beautiful. The way the darkness contrasts his skin makes him glow and the color does nothing less of complimenting his eyes.

I stare at him and feel my body go limp. Is this what it is to be in love?

He comes to my side, "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, slowly, "Nothing. You look wonderful."

He beams a smile and I feel my body go weak again, "Thanks."

He takes my hand and kisses it gently. I pull lightly and he kneels over me. I move to kiss him gently on the lips. He smiles and returns the kiss before, reluctantly, pulling back.

"I won't be long," he states.

"Will you bring him here?" I ask.

"Why? Would you want me too?" he takes my hand again.

I shake my head, "No. Even without laying in bed for this many day I look like crap, I must look terrible."

He shakes his head, "You could never look terrible."

I smile, "You're biased."

"Really?" he asks.

"Love can make people blind, I know it," I admit, sadly.

He shakes his head and laughs, "It's nothing but some hair problems with you, and that can be fixed easily."

I look away.

He leaves and quickly returns with a comb. I quickly bring up my hands and shake my head.

He gives me a strange look and I reply, "It's a wig."

He looks at me with little shock, "I thought so, after that night…"

I nod and he pockets the comb. He moves to my side and gently peels the wig off. I look away in shame and I feel his fingers move through the jungle of tangles gently, not pulling anywhere. He moves my chin so that I'm forced to face him, and as his hand stops, his lips cover mine in a caressing gesture.

I close my eyes and smile against his lips before he pulls back and quickly comments, "I won't be long."

I watch as he leaves, sadly.

I hope he's made the right choice.

PHILIPPE POV

My brother comes running, just in time for the meeting. Always arriving at the last minute. I roll my eyes.

He approaches and smiles, "How have you been?"

I smile back, "Busy, but fine, same as always. Judging by the bags under your eyes you might actually for once be doing some real work!"

He frowns and bows his head, "I've been helping a friend."

"With what?" I question.

He motions for me to follow and without a verbal invitation I obey.

We stop outside an old portrait in a deserted hall.

He turns to me and whispers, "Brother, I have kept your secret for a long time without ever thinking twice about keeping it a secret, even from Christine, could you promise me that what you are about to be can be kept a secret between us?"

I look at him incredulously, "Of course, my brother."

He smiles, "Thank you."

To my surprise, with a simple tug the painting flies open to reveal a stone passageway. Crawling through it ahead of my brother, I wait for him to enter. Closing the painting he then motions for me to follow him, and I do.

Walking down the winding corridors, I have to be careful at points that my brother says are dangerous, though I sense no danger, seeing as how the path looks the same the whole way down, I trust Raoul to make the smart decision and follow in his footsteps.

Finally reaching the bottom of the twisting halls, we come to a lake. The lake seems to be impassable, except by boat, and there is a lack of those.

Raoul turns to me, "Again, my brother, do I have your word that everything that happens today shall be kept a secret?"

Again I look to him, quite shocked, and repeat, "Of course, my brother."

He then leads me to the far side of the lake, where a stone path leads to the other side. Reaching the other side, I stare around in awe at the beautiful, I fear to say it, house that we step into.

He leads me up a sloped path and enters through a door. Hesitantly, I follow.

First thing I enter I notice the room is seemingly small, a guess room possibly, with a wardrobe at the far end and maybe some pictures and a few other pieces of furniture, including a swan shaped bed, with another man within.

Raoul motions to me, "Erik this is my brother, Philippe," he motions back to the man, "Philippe, this is Erik."

Hesitantly the one named Erik gives a half bow from his sitting position, and I give a nod in return.

Raoul summons me closer and I slowly approach. Now at Erik's side, I notice a white porcelain mask covering the right side of his face. I stare at it, but then catch myself, and quickly look away. The next things I notice are the bandages on his wrists.

Before I can investigate this man any further my brother starts, "Please, Philippe, why are you here?"

"I wanted to see what you have been up to. Word reached me that the wedding had been called off, and I wanted to make sure you were okay," I add the second part hesitantly.

He nods, "Well, thank you, but I am fine. I've been here helping Erik. He got hurt, as I'm sure you noticed, and Madame Giry can not stay with him, so I have instead."

I smile, fleetingly, and pull my brother by the arm out of the room, quickly adding through gritted teeth, "We'll just be a moment."

I slam him against the wall outside the room, well enough down the hallway not to be heard, "What are you thinking?"

He looks at me confused and I continue, "Taking care of this man! I know who he is! The mask says it all."

He lowers his head, "Please, don't hurt him."

"Him!" I yell, "Not him! I might hurt you though! How could you be so blind? You choose this man over family?"

He nods 'yes', his face turning a ghostly white.

"How?" I control my voice, only to a certain degree though.

He doesn't answer, and something clicks inside.

"You love him, don't you?" my voice is ice.

He doesn't answer me, but his eyes avoid mine.

"Don't you?" I scream.

* * *

CHAPTER 10 STARTS HERE

* * *

I watch as tears fill his eyes, and I let go of him. He stays leaning against the wall as his choked voice answers, "Yes."

"How could you?" my voice is cold again, but low, almost a whisper.

He turns, curling against the wall in a strange embrace, his face now a pale green, "I don't know."

My face and voice soften as his tears run softly over his cheeks, "Raoul…"

"I'm sorry," he drops to the floor, crying, "I'm so sorry."

I kneel next to him and look at him pitifully, "Please, Raoul, it's okay. I should be the sorry one, I didn't mean to yell."

He shakes his head and looks at me, "Don't be sorry, you have every right to be upset."

I know that he's right, but I have to deny it, he is my brother after all, "Please, Raoul, I over reacted, I didn't mean to and I'm sorry."

He smiles weakly, "Your apology will always be accepted, you know that."

I weakly glance back at the room, "I should get some of your things brought back here."

He grins at me, "You accept this then?"

I shake my head, "No, I don't, but I do accept that trying to persuade you out of anything is impossible."

He hugs me and I lightly embrace him back.

I motion toward the door, "Go on, he needs you more than I do. But before I let you go back there, can I know one thing?"

"What?" he asks.

"What happened to his wrists?" then, seeing his face, I quickly add, "You don't have to answer."

He shakes his head, "Erik would respect the question. He cut his wrists, but that's all I am in the position to say."

I nod and then quickly add, "Is his face like they say it is?"

ERIK POV

They think that I can't hear them, but they're wrong. I can hear every word. Raoul was right, I would respect the question, and that's all he had the right to say.

The last question threw me: is his face like they say it is?

I fear the answer.

Then Raoul's voice reaches me, "He's the most handsome man I know."

I feel tears threaten to fall as he reenters the room, and I watch Philippe pass by the room without another word. He knows better, and I silently thank them both.

Raoul's face is pale, more pale than I have ever noticed mine, but there's a fleeting smile at his lips when he sees me. I softly reach out and touch his hand when he draws close enough. His hand is shaking, but as he sits next to me, the color returns slowly to his cheeks. I move my head to rest in his lap and he smiles down at me.

We stay like this for only minutes when an alarm goes off and Raoul jumps to attention, settling me back into the bed before moving to the main room, sword drawn.

I hear a quick splash before Raoul's light footsteps move toward the shoreline. Who could it be?

RAOUL POV

As I move into the main room, there are footsteps on the stone pathway and for a fleeting moment I hope without hope that it is Madame Giry. As I see who it is, my heart stops.

Philippe. He came back. He came back with a small case of something. The chest he is carrying throws him off balance, and he drops it to the ground in the main room before collapsing into the water. I quickly rush to his side and pull him onto the shore.

"Philippe, what were you thinking?" I scold, lightly.

He smiles, "I had brought some of your clothes, just in case you were here for different reasons, but I guess that you can take them all the same."

I almost laugh, "Philippe, why the sudden change of heart?"

He stands, shakily, and shrugs, "I guess I give up, since I know what it's like to try to change your mind, it just doesn't happen."

I stand, letting him lean on my arm, though he doesn't make it obvious, "Come on, I'll take these back into the room in a second, you just follow let me help you now."

He has started to shake as well, which is what worries me. I support him all the way back to Erik's room to find Erik hiding in the sheets, trying to make himself unnoticeable. I laugh and sit Philippe down in the chair with some towels and then move to Erik's side. He doesn't come out of the covers until I force him to.

Pulling the covers down a little, he glares at me, "Stop."

"What?" I ask innocently.

He gives me a scared glance, something that tears at my heart, "Please."

I nod and leave the covers down, but let him hide between the pillows. I lightly run my fingers through his hair and look up to find Philippe staring at me. I act like I didn't notice and I look back to Erik, continuing the soft caress.

Moving my hand to the left side of his face and lightly stroke his cheek, softly, carefully.

Philippe finally speaks, "I'm sorry."

Again, I look up to him, "You have every right to be upset, but I still don't see the harm in this. What difference does it make when no one else knows about us?"

He shrugs, "It doesn't make any difference I guess. It's just hard to accept. It's not like me and, well you know."

"La Sorelli," Erik comments.

My brother freezes, "You told him?"

Erik lifts himself so he can look Philippe in the eye, "Monsieur, I am the Opera Ghost, I do not need to be told what is going on in the Opera Populaire, I can see it all first hand."

My brother goes bright red.

Erik laughs, "You actually think I stayed for the show?"

I go bright red.

Erik just shakes his head and lays back, wincing as he applies pressure to his right wrist. I quickly help him down and check the wrist for blood. There is none, thank God.

Lightly resuming running my fingers through his hair, my brother turns away, but I can see the corner of his eye, and he's staring at Erik.

I finally get annoyed, "Philippe."

He knows he's been caught and turns around, not saying a word, "Yes?"

"Stop," it's simple, but it's a threat.

"Or what, dear brother?" his voice seems almost to laugh at me, "I hold all the power in the household."

"Not here, you don't," Erik growls in my defense.

I place a hand on his arm, trying to get him to stop, and he does, but he stays poised to attack again at any moment.

Philippe turns to me and then back to Erik, "My apologies, my nerves have the best of me."

Erik glares at him, "And why would you be nervous, Monsieur?"

"Well," he smirks, "For one thing, I'm in a room with a known killer."

Erik growls and it takes all of my strength to keep him in the bed, my arms wrapped around his stomach and chest in a desperate attempt to keep him sitting, if nothing else. Philippe has shot out of the chair and is pressed against the far wall. I carefully move the hand that was on Erik's chest to his forehead, pressing back slightly, pinning him to the spot, but also whispering comfortingly into his ear. I say nothing in particular, I just try to calm him down. It works.

I feel his body go limp in my arms and his breaths start coming in gasps. It took all of his energy to fight me.

Philippe moves nervously back to the chair and sits. His hands are visibly shaking.

I turn to look into his eyes, "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" he growls in response, cautiously eyeing Erik.

"Erik wouldn't hurt you, not without a reason, you have done nothing to make him want to kill you! Not until now," I quickly add.

He shakes his head, "Yes, I have."

"What? When?" I yell.

"Just now, before you started to talk," he looks down.

"What? You stared?" I start.

"No," he stops me, "I wanted to rip off that mask! I wanted to walk up to him and tear that mask from his face, and he knew it! He knew I wanted to! That gaze, those eyes, he read my thoughts, he knew."

* * *

CHAPTER 11 STARTS HERE

* * *

I shake my head and look down to Erik, who is looking to Philippe with an almost hurt expression.

"Monsieur, I thought that you were staring out of fear, not," a pause, "this. If I had known I wouldn't have scared you."

"Yes, you would have," Philippe curls into the chair.

"I have killed for less, this is true, but never for that, I wouldn't kill a person for that," Erik admits.

"You lie," Philippe whispers.

Erik looks at me, then him, and growls, "Why would you even want to know what lies behind the mask? Why would you care? Is it curiosity, or just plain stupidity?"

He shakes his lowered head, "If my brother can love you, even with your face, then I guess I can learn to as well."

Erik looks at him in shock, and then, ever so slowly, moves to peel the mask from his face.

The marred skin is as twisted as ever, and the strange lighting does nothing to soften the sudden twists and turns of the skin. Philippe looks over finally, and to my surprise does not gasp, but instead slowly stands. I watch as he approaches and then stands above us both.

I fear what his actions might be, but I see that I have no reason to as Philippe slowly turns, and whispers, "Thank you."

Philippe shocks me even further when he walks out, not another word.

Erik moves to replace the mask, but I take the lifeless porcelain thing and gently set it aside. He looks up at me, a little hurt, and I take a cool cloth and run it over the right side of his face. His eyes close and his breath softens, but he does not fall asleep.

I know this by his faint whisper, "Raoul, would it be too much to ask you to help me take a bath? I fear how dreadful I must smell by now."

I laugh and press my lips to his cheek, "Are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

He looks at me, "Why? Aren't you?"

"Well, I guess by now I have to be, but you're the one that's been unconscious every time I've seen you naked," I point out.

He smiles and kisses my lips, "I think I'm tired of that, though. I want to know that you're there with me, and that it means something now."

"Now," I whisper into his ear, "it means everything."

He smiles and I gently pull him out of the bed and into my arms. One of his hands curls gently behind my neck and he rests his head on my shoulder. Carrying him into the bathroom, I carefully set him on the ground and quickly start the water, getting it to the right temperature.

Moving back to his side, I don't have to worry about removing a shirt, he told me that he preferred not having to drag one over his wrists, so I carefully stand him up to remove his pants and socks.

Holding him up so he can walk over to the tub himself, I gently lift him over the side and rest him so his head is on my chest.

His jaw clenches and I instantly react, "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing avoidable."

"I can try," I plead.

He smiles weakly, "My wrists, touching the water. Please, I'm alright, it just stings."

I nod and reach for a washcloth. He lets me gently massage him as I wash, and I carefully stay as modest with the job as possible.

Eventually I finish, and as I turn to put the wash cloth aside, I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling me backwards. I turn and find myself face to face with Erik. He looks into my eyes and I suddenly feel a burning sensation between my legs that I'm not a stranger to, but have never felt around another man.

ERIK POV

I hold him face to face with me, and I can feel heat building between us. I finally break the invisible barrier keeping us apart, and I press my lips to his. His eyes close first, then mine. I want to be able to see the look on his face when we kiss, but something tells me that would be like cheating, so I keep my eyes pressed closed. I know that he will do the same.

I feel one of his hands reach up to cup my right cheek and suddenly an image flashes through my head. My kiss with Christine. I see her in front of me, and not him. I feel the soft of _her_ lips travel down to my neck. I tense.

Opening my eyes, I see Raoul pulling back.

"Don't stop," my voice is a strained whisper.

He listens and kisses my neck again. His hand moves to my chest and I completely relax. He nips at my skin and then looks back up at me, his face resting on my damp chest.

"What was that?" he whispers.

"What?" I look down.

"You tensed," he whimpers.

"A bad thought passed through my head," I wave it off, "It's over now."

"Was is about me?" he starts to move his head away.

My hand moves to keep him where he is, "Never."

He smiles and relaxes against my chest once more. His mouth, though, does not continue it's trail, and leaves me almost hurt.

He sits up and whispers, "Let's get you out of here and dry."

I smile and try to stand on my own, but I place too much strain on my wrists and just manage to bite back a cry of pain. He quickly takes my wrists and hovers them in the air, allowing them to avoid all contact and then lifts me out of the tub himself. I stand on no longer shaky legs, and smile at the triumph. I may not be able to hold things, but I can stand on my own, and after a few, tentative, steps, I realize I can walk as well.

Raoul smiles and come up behind me, wrapping a towel around my waist. He takes another and drapes another over my shoulders. He lightly moves the towel over my hands and wrists, then moves gently up my arm, drying me off.

I turn to him, "I can do this myself."

He sighs, "I would rather you not."

"Raoul, I'm fine. I'm regaining energy and I can at least do this on my own," I insist.

He doesn't stop and I give up the fight. Raoul, it seems, can be just as stubborn as me.

He smiles, knowing he has won, and lightly takes the towel off my shoulders so he can reach my back better. He says nothing about the scars. I know he sees them, but he says nothing. Why?

I feel the towel first move around my back randomly, and then I feel it start to trace the scars themselves. He unconsciously draws attention to painful memories from long ago. Does he know something about them already? Is that why he remains silent?

"Raoul," I calmly warn.

He stops and then quickly resumes a random motion, whispering, "Sorry."

There's a long silence, and then his voice reaches my ears, "Do they hurt?"

I shake my head, "Not anymore."

We fall into another silence.

I finally speak, "You know." Not a question, a statement.

He nods, "Yes. Madame Giry told me what she knew."

I shake my head, "She knows nothing of that place."

"Then let me here it from you. Please, if you will, let me hear the story from you," he whispers, his arms circling me from behind, holding me comfortingly to his chest.

I sigh, "Later."

He nods, and with a hurt look, finishes drying me off and helping me get dressed.

I roll my eyes when he is finished at his pitiful look and pull him closer to me, lips mere centimeters apart, "I only meant to get back into bed, I'm tired. I'll tell you, I never meant to hurt you."

He shakes his head, "You didn't hurt me, I just didn't know what you meant by later. Knowing you, I thought it meant days."

"No," I smile, "merely minutes."

I claim his lips in a quick kiss and we walk back to the room I've been sleeping in. It is not _my_ room, but I don't think he is ready to see my room just yet.

Sitting back down in the bed, his arms tighten around me, and I prepare to tell the most painful story of my life.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0


	9. Chapter 12 thru 15

Chapter 12

I take in a deep breath and slowly release it.

Raoul takes me in as close as he can, "You don't have to tell me."

"You have the right to know," I point out.

He kisses my head and I begin, "When I was a child my mother never loved me, or she never showed it if she really did. She would always yell at me when I had no idea what I had done wrong, and she would never let me go anywhere except for my room without wearing a mask that she made me. The mask, though, really hurt, and so I tried not to wear it, but I was only punished for disobeying. One day my mother was fed up with me asking why I couldn't wear a mask and she dragged me into her room, the only room with a mirror and showed me my face. I panicked and broke the mirror. I thought it had been a monster, but eventually I realized what a mirror was, and I realized that the monster was me. A while later I ran away from home, and I never looked back.

"I was found by gypsies. There was a clan of them. They took me in and threw me in a cage. They forced me to wear a makeshift mask and they were always testing me, torturing me. The little kids would throw rocks at me, and poke me with sticks until a bled. I wanted to fight back, but if I did the master gypsy whipped me. That's where the scars came from. They not only whipped me, they starved me, and that's where my low appetite comes in. I lost my appetite there, I couldn't bear to eat. When I did, I could barely hold it down, and sometimes they would whip me after I ate, and I would retch in front of them. They just laughed. Then Madame Giry came, though she certainly was much younger then, and she got me out of there. I still have not found a way to repay her," I stop the tears that threaten to fall.

Raoul lightly kisses my forehead, and I can feel his tears brush my skin. I look up into his eyes, which are red from crying, and I quickly kiss his lips in the hopes of calming him.

Then he surprises me, "And where does that garden come into play?"

I look away, "That garden was the one thing that I could see from my window in my room in the attic. I always used to imagine myself out in there, since I wasn't allowed out there much. It was the one place I could go to forget that the only reason my own mother would touch this monster was to punish me."

"You're not a monster," he whispers.

"Raoul," I start, "when my own mother showed me my face, I screamed and broke the mirror, afraid that the monster I saw was coming to get me. Now I see that there was never a monster, only me."

He pulls me closer to him and I can feel his heat pulsing around me, his aura engulfing me. His tears have slowed and I feel his arms wrap around my back, holding my stomach to his, my chest to his. I kiss him, hard, on the lips, allowing myself to open my mouth and suck on his lower lip, tasting him, smelling him, touching him. He does not fear me, and I have no fear anymore.

He pulls back and I quickly start to kiss down his jaw line and then his neck.

Then he rolls me onto my back and pins me. My fear returns.

"Raoul?" my voice comes out slightly sounding of betrayal.

"I want to help you, Erik," he whispers, dropping his face to speak into my ear, "only help. Tell me to stop and I will."

The thought comforts me, but not much. I can not see his intentions. I'm blinded by my love.

He gently moves his lips to mine, kissing me in what could be considered a caress. He softly moves his lips over mine, his legs spread to straddle my hips. I'm a little frightened by his sudden confidence, but my head has been lost to a haze of ecstasy, throwing care to the side.

I moan as he presses his tongue into my mouth, searching me in a hungry manner. A moan answers mine, resonating from deep within his throat.

I smile as I feel his hands move to my chest, but then worry as he starts to unbutton my shirt. He pulls back slightly, allowing me to see his hands at work.

"Raoul…" my voice trails.

He instantly snaps back, "Do you want me to stop?"

"In all sincerity, no," I answer. Best to stay truthful.

He smiles, but then a thought hits him, "I won't hurt you, Erik."

True, this would hurt. Things are not meant to be this way, but I'm not afraid, "Don't worry, Raoul, I'll be fine."

He frowns, "Erik."

I smile up at him and kiss his lips, "There is nothing that you could do to hurt me, except if you were to stop loving me."

"I do love you," he protests.

"Show me," I challenge.

The kiss he claims me in shows nothing less than passion and love. I let him open my shirt and I feel his lips travel down lower to my neck and then to my stomach.

RAOUL POV

I let my tongue flick out against his skin every once in a while, tasting him. I bite at some of his sensitive skin and I can feel the shiver that shoots down his spine. Smiling, I move back to face him and a whimper forms in his throat and reaches me in seconds. I kiss his lips lightly and then take his hands, leading them to remove my own shirt.

He smiles at then takes over, his own seductive nature kicking in. This man has a seductive aura without much question, and in taking off my shirt alone it shows. His hands move agonizingly slow and careful, making sure I feel the compassion in the gesture. Sliding my shirt off my arms, he quickly tosses the unwanted garment aside and shrugs off his own, doing the same.

I smile as his hands move to rest lightly on my back as I slowly peel his pants away from him. He moans as I accidentally brush him and I instantly feel my own arousal grow, the heat in my groin unbearable. He seems to sense this, and the moment that I shed him of the rest of his clothes, he instantly returns the favor. I smile and kiss him, then pull back, taking in the full of his form in the dim lighting, as he does the same to me.

ERIK POV

I look at Raoul and marvel at his form. I know that he has seen me without clothes, I know that he has tried to be modest about that as well, but let's face it, you can't be modest about dressing someone when they're unconscious. I smile and let my hands rest on his hips, and start to pull myself up. He helps me sit and instantly I press my hips into his.

A moan escapes his throat and I allow myself to kiss his neck, and then bite. I bite hard enough to bruise, but low enough to hide it. He hands move to my back and caress my scars. I don't care.

I let my hands pull my further to him, until there is no space between him and myself. Our breathing becomes ragged and our sweat mingles.

RAOUL POV

Finally, he knows that this can go on no longer, and the evidence is not that difficult to notice. He slowly moves to lay on his stomach and I stop.

I can't hurt him.

I can't do this.

"Erik," I plead, "this won't work. It'll hurt you."

"I don't care," he turns to me.

"Please, do you have anything to make this any easier? If nothing else, something to make this less painful for you," I allow my hands to travel down his exposed back.

He nods and takes moves to take a small thing of skin lotion out of the top drawer. It's not much, but it will do.

I take it from him and quickly apply it, finding myself closer and closer to release.

Finally I have no other choice. I hold him and comfort him before driving hard into him. He screams in pain and I quickly stop.

"Erik," I start, "I won't do this."

"It's already done," he answers, "now the painful part is over, don't worry."

ERIK POV

As he nods against my back and starts his rhythm, I realize the painful part was not over, but I bite back the pain and soon I am swimming in ecstasy once more.

Finally we climax and I feel my body release as his releases into mine.

Afterwards he makes sure he does not collapse on top of me, as he falls to my side on the bed. I smile and pull him toward me, not caring how messy this was. I smile and kiss his forehead shakily as he comes out of his own haze of ecstasy.

Slowly I watch as he falls asleep in silence, and slowly I join him myself.

Chapter 13

RAOUL POV

I wake up and look down to see Erik with his head on my stomach, still fast asleep. I've never woken up before him. I worry a little, but decide to let him sleep, we were both worn out after last night.

I lightly run my fingers through his hair and he makes small, throaty, noises in his sleep before falling back into his own dreams, turning away from me and moving back to his pillow. I smile and give up trying to comfort him, seeing as how that just disturbs his sleep.

I sit up and decide to wash up. Moving very stiffly out of the bed, I look back and notice the blood. There is a large puddle of mostly dried blood in the middle of the bed. I didn't realize he was bleeding last night.

Gently, I take the sheets and pull them back. I see that the blood has stopped flowing, but it is still a serious matter. He has already lost so much blood, he can't afford to lose any more, if there's any more left to lose. There has to be, though, he's still alive.

I go into the bathroom and quickly wash myself off, before heading back into the room. He's still asleep. I look at the clock, and see that it's almost noon. Erik never sleeps this late. I start to worry.

I look and see his bandages are soaked in blood, but from the outside in. That's a little bit of comfort. I go and quickly bring back some wet cloths and gently clean him off, before setting him in a little nest of clean sheets that I made on the floor, and removing the sheets from last night.

Then I quickly make the bed and recover my still sleeping angel.

I lightly take the bandages off and leave them off, disposing of the soiled bandages and letting the wounds breathe.

I lightly kiss his forehead before writing a note and dashing off to find Madame Giry. She is the only one that I know that can handle this sort of blood loss.

MADAME GIRY POV

Just returning from a practice, I watch as Meg sits on her bed and stretches out, quickly falling asleep. Today had been a trying practice, we just started a new play with many ballet moves, since the managers insist on having _many_ dancing girls. Poor Meg is one of the few who knows the steps, and had to redo scenes that she already could do perfectly again and again just because the others couldn't. I move to her side and lightly pet her hair as she sleeps.

Then a voice breaks through the silence, "Madame?"

I look toward the mirror. It had come from that direction, but it wasn't Erik.

"Come in, Monsieur," I watch as Raoul enters the room.

He gasps for breath, clearly having run the entire way here. He composes himself and finally manages to speak, "Erik, he's hurt, worse."

"How?" I manage to get him to sit in a seat.

He falters, "He had a rough night. He bled, a lot. I didn't notice though, until this morning. He was sleeping while he bled, and he hasn't woken up this morning."

Though I don't really believe him, I have to trust him, "I will go to him, Monsieur, just let me write a note to Meg."

He nods and watches as I frantically write a quick note to my daughter and then motion for him to follow me back to Erik.

I move at a fairly quick pace, but nothing is fast enough for him. He really does love Erik. Maybe Erik will finally be getting his chance at a better life, getting his chance to find love.

He shows me back into the room where Erik rests, his unconscious form seemingly very peaceful. I move to his side and remove his bandages on his wrists carefully, examining them. They have healed nicely, no signs of recent bleeding at all. I'm not being told something, and I want to know what.

"Monsieur, there is no sign of recent bleeding here," I comment.

He looks at me in confusion and fear, "There was blood, lots of it, just this morning…"

I nod, "Yes, he shows signs of blood loss, just not from his wrists."

He looks at Erik and kisses his forehead, then whispers, "I love him, Madame."

I smile in understanding, "Yes, and you must be worried sick."

He looks to me and I wink, then he adds, "Yes, terribly, is there anything we can do?"

I smile, "Wait for him to wake up, they'll hurt him terribly, from the looks of things he lost a fair amount of blood. Just keep him comfortable, as always… I'm afraid there is little more that can be done."

He nods, but his voice sounds hopeless and helpless, "Alright, thank you."

"I must return to Meg, but if you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask," I quickly turn and leave without another word.

So Erik and Raoul have proved their love. Fair enough. They can not be married, so there is nothing wrong with this, I don't think. Though this is quite a leap from what my hopes had been, Erik is, indeed getting to know a better life.

RAOUL POV

I watch as Madame Giry leaves and I then turn back to my angel.

I gently move some hair out of his face and as I do, his face follows my hand, leaning toward my touch.

"Erik?" I whisper, not knowing how sensitive he will be.

He moans and opens one eye, looking at me, and smiles, "Good morning."

"More like good afternoon," I comment, "How do you feel?"

"Weak. Tired. Wonderful," the last word seems to wrap around me in a sort of embrace.

I gently caress his face, removing the mask that I had placed on his face in modesty for when Madame Giry came. I set the lifeless thing aside, and let my fingers lightly run along his marred skin. He doesn't even flinch anymore when I do this, when just yesterday he would have. I can't tell if this is a sudden change of heart or a sign of exhaustion. I hope it's the former.

"Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" I ask, taking his hand in mine.

He nods, but then stops, "I don't know…"

I squeeze his hand, "What is it? I'm sure I can do it, there's no harm in asking."

"In my room, there are some pain killers on the desk by my… bed… can you get them for me?" the way he said "bed" made it seem like it was a bad thing.

I instantly respond, "Of course!"

Walking wearily back toward the darkness that has been described as Erik's room, I find a lump forming in my throat. Why would my angel seem so nervous about me seeing his room? Is there something in there that he wishes to hide? What could he want to hide from me?

Slowly opening the door, I look in through and shrug off my silliness. I panicked for nothing, it's just a room. I must admit, though, that it is rather unconventional with its pitch-black walls and colorful paintings. I turn and see a painting right by me. I look for an artist's name. There is none.

That's odd. Most artists at least leave a signature.

I then look down and see a small booklet, the size of a diary. I pick it up and open it. It holds poetry that my angel has written. I slip the book into my pocket.

Then I look away from the wall that I face, and the horror strikes me. There is a coffin, with a red canopy above it. Next to it was a desk. Was this my angel's "bed"? No. No, it couldn't be! My angel!

I walk numbly over to stand next to it and I lightly let my hands run along the top, then open it. Inside there is a pillow and a thin silk blanket. This is my angel's bed…

I turn and unconsciously pick up the painkillers, walking back out, careful to shut the door behind me. Seeing the worried expression on Erik's face means nothing to me as I walk to his side and hold out my hand.

My voice is choked, "Are these the ones?"

He nods, "Yes, thank you."

I nod and turn, offering, "Would you like some water to take them with?"

"No," he takes my hand, "these are herbal, they go down easily."

I continue with my numbness as I sit down next to him on the bed.

He swallows two painkillers and then wraps an arm around my waist, "I know it's not the easiest thing to see, my room, but thank you."

At this I laugh, "You think? Not the easiest thing to look at? Try the worst thing I've seen in my life. Erik, you sleep in a coffin!"

He gives me a hurt expression, "I thought you would be the one… the one that could accept me for the way that I live."

I look at him and my emotions come flooding back, first sadness, for him, then anger, at myself. I drop to his side, my knees on the floor, so that I can face him properly.

"My angel," I whisper, as I pull his shaking form to me, "please, do not cry."

"You are the one…" his voice trails, "I knew it."

"Yes," I whisper.

He smiles and I ask, "Were those paintings in your room yours as well?"

"Yes," he backs away again, "but they are nothing I am proud of."

"They're wonderful," I comment.

He snorts, "You don't know what real art is then."

"Yes I do," I counter, "it's an expression of someone's inner thoughts and feelings."

He smiles, "Ever the expert."

I laugh and so does he. This is something that I could get used to. Our laughter.

Chapter 14

Bending down, I am suddenly reminded of the book in my pocket. I lean back and reach down, taking it out and moving to hand it to him. He quickly snatches it from me.

"I thought you would want it," I comment.

"Yes, I want it," he laughs, "I want it to burn. These are poems that came from deep within me, but my feelings have changed now, thanks to you…"

I smile and reach for the book, which he allows me to take. Opening it, I read the last entry, which I read aloud:

**My Breaking Heart**

_Up here I feel again, the wind against my face,_

_Running, climbing, jumping, all at lightning pace._

_Cape billowing, my angelic wings,_

_The Angel of Death, killing beautiful things._

_Not by physical death, but by use of cage,_

_My voice is strong, I am a mage._

_I hear your voices start to entwine,_

_No birds around me dare to whine._

_My love, my voice,_

_You've made your choice._

_And now your angelic voice chooses to part_

_You and me. My breaking heart._

_Thoughts racing through my head,_

_Wishing he or I were dead._

_My vision blurs deep shades of red,_

_The color of blood, the color of dread._

_Tear out my heart, rip and shred,_

_Lay me in a coffin bed._

_My love, my voice,_

_You've made your choice._

_And now your angelic voice chooses to part_

_You and me. My breaking heart!_

_Standing here, I let no tears fall_

_As I build my defense: a wall._

_Not one to keep you out, but instead me in,_

_The more I watch, the less it's thin._

_I lean over the edge and look below,_

_Watching the river of people flow._

_Not one gives me a passing glance,_

_I'm the Angel of Death with no second chance._

_My love, my voice,_

_You've made your choice._

_And now your angelic voice chooses to part_

_You and me. My breaking heart._

_My angel, my voice,_

_I hear your choice!_

_My angel has chosen to depart,_

_Leaving me and my breaking heart._

It ends and I look to Erik, only to see him crying.

"These were about Christine," I point out. I don't need to question, I can tell.

"Yes, but I have not written in there for a very long time. Not since the roof," he lowers his head as he adds the last part.

"The roof? You were there?" I sit up on the bed once more.

He nods ashamedly, "I heard everything, I saw everything."

Lifting him into a sitting position, I place him in my lap, facing me, and I quickly smother his lips in a kiss. He moans and starts to kiss me in return and lightly running his fingers through my hair. I move my hands to his cheeks and lightly rub his right cheek with my thumb, massaging the deformed flesh. He starts to pull back, but I move my left hand behind his neck, hold him close. He complies and we continue the kiss, more passionately than before.

I lightly start to rub his back and he moves deeper into my lap, using his hands to support himself.

I lean back and look at him in surprise, "Erik, your wrists… be careful… please…"

He smiles and brings his wrists up, letting them rest against our laps, "There, you see, Raoul? No more pressure."

I give him a still disapproving look and he shrugs and climbs out of my lap, not using his wrists this time. I smile and he picks up the book of poems.

"Erik, please, forget those if they hurt you," I whisper.

He shakes his head, "They don't hurt me."

"They hurt me," I add, sadly.

He looks up, "Why?"

"The Angel of Death?"

"I'm condemned, Raoul, condemned to the depths of Hell."

"That's not true!"

"How would you know?" the raise in his voice and the heat in his eyes almost scares me. Almost.

I rest a hand over his, "Because, Erik, everyone can be forgiven. They just have to believe, and pray."

"I lost my belief in God long ago, Raoul, and I do BELIEVE that it is NOT going to return."

I kiss his cheek, "Just think about what I said, please?"

He nods and I smile, pulling him closer and kissing him lightly on the lips. I pull back and he tosses the book aside, my smile widening.

"Would you like something to eat, my Angel of Music?" I ask.

"Yes, thank you, mon ange," the words roll on his tongue and slip wistfully out of his mouth.

"Anything in particular?" I question.

He shakes his head. I move into the kitchen and look around, there aren't many things that I can choose from, some bread and fruit seems to be the most. I make the most out of it, starting a small fire on his makeshift burner and toasting the bread, spreading a light layer of jam on it, and surrounding it in fruit. Putting it all on a small tray, along with the only drink I can find: wine. Carefully balancing the tray, I walk into the room and set it in front of him.

He smiles at me, wide and pure and I smile back.

"You can have something to eat, as well, my love," he comments.

I shake my head, "This is for you."

"Then it is mine to share, and I insist on sharing it with you," he hands me an apple.

I laugh and take it, "You are one to always get your way, aren't you?"

He grins, "Yes, yes I am."

I take a bite out of the apple, and try to keep my mouth closed as a yawn forces it's way out of me.

He looks at me in mild concern, "Are you tired, Raoul?"

I shake my head, though in all sincerity I am exhausted.

He lightly takes my hand, "Are you sure?"

I nod, and he finishes his meal in silence.

I take the dirty tray into the kitchen, but find no strength to wash it, so I leave it for later.

Returning to Erik's side, I see he has moved into the chair that I have been sitting in, and has left the bed empty.

"Lay down, Raoul, rest. I'll be okay for a couple of hours," he motions to the bed.

I gladly comply, "Thank you."

I dare not ask how he made it into the chair, as I slowly lie down, and fall into an oblivion of sleep.

Chapter 15

ERIK POV

I wait until I am sure that Raoul is asleep to move again. Reaching out, I take a page that I tore out of the book with my poems and I write a quick note to my love.

Raoul,

Please do not be alarmed. Madame Giry came to help me out into her room so that she could check my wrists' progress without the threat of waking you up. I would ask that you do not panic, but also beg that you do not follow. I love you, and I trust you.

Erik

I gently lean down and kiss his cheek before laying the note next to him and standing. Yes, standing. I have learned recently that my energy has been regained and that my wrists feel just fine. The blood that I lost was a fair amount, but nothing like what I lost from my wrists.

I look to my angel once more before leaving to go to my own room. Finding nothing else touched by my angel, except for my coffin, which I expected, I smile and grab my traveling cloak and a wig and mask. Placing the wig on my head and the mask on my face, I throw the cloak on and move out of my house with the grace of a ghost: silent and quick.

Once on the main street, I smile at the fact that the moon has risen to a fair height, casting a silver shadow over the black night.

I look to my left and move to my right, used to moving through the sometimes-treacherous streets of nighttime Paris.

A woman comes up to me, scantily dressed, and with a faint smell of liquor swimming around her. A whore.

She speaks to me with a slight slur, "Hey there, looking for a thrill?"

I roll my eyes, "I hardly need any thrill that you could give me."

She persists, rubbing against me, "Hey now, everyone deserves a treat every once in a while."

I hold back laughter and push her aside, "I do not want or need anything you could give me."

"Fine!" she yells and as she turns her back I hear her mumbling, "Someone like you shouldn't be out at this time of night."

I rub the back of my neck in frustration as I reach my first destination.

Walking into the store, the owner glances at me and quickly gasps.

I smile. He recognized me.

"The usual?" he questions, his voice shaking.

"No, more than that. Three times what I normally get," I flash a large wad of francs.

His voice quickly calms, "That's a nice amount there."

I smile and hand him the money and walk out.

In the doorway I turn so that only my masks shows, "The normal place, one hour."

"Of course," there is even a smile in his voice.

I leave and shake my head. The things people will do and the people that they'll deal with just to support their families. I wonder if he even has a family. I realize I don't care.

The rest of the stops are the same: three time more than the usual. Everything has to be big, everything has to be perfect.

As I wait in the usual place, I write a second note, on much better parchment.

This will, indeed, be perfect. I know it.


	10. Chapters 16 thru 28

CHAPTER 16

RAOUL POV

Waking up, I look around and see that Erik is no where to be found. Sitting up I panic. Then I stop, my breath taken away.

I look around me, and I see that the bed is covered in rose petals. Lifting one gently in my hand, I feel it's velvety softness and bring it to my face, the fragrance intoxicating.

Gently setting it aside, I almost fear to move, afraid I might crush the delicate softness. I then move to one side, looking around. On the floor I see more petals, carefully leading in one direction, a perfect path.

I gently get out of bed and find myself barefoot, but nothing else has changed. I smile at the thought of Erik making me comfortable, as I did for him not long ago.

I softly pad my way along the rose petal trail, careful never to step on them. The lead me into the main room and then to the table, where again my breath is lost at the sight.

A wondrous spread of food is there. A well cooked meal of fine meat and vegetables as a side dish, along with wine and a vase full of roses on the far side of the table. I smile and follow the petals to a chair, marked with my name. I look on the plate that seems bare, the meat and vegetables still in the middle of the table, covered to stay warm, and see a small piece of paper. Picking up the paper, I again read aloud:

**My Prayer**

_Please... oh Lord... forgive me... I have sinned,  
And I know this,  
And yet you sent me an angel.  
This angel has taught me to forgive,  
And I pray that you can do the same.  
The guilt I live with everyday is unimaginable,  
And I pray now in hopes of forgiveness.  
I have committed just about every sin imaginable,  
And as punishment you sent me an angel,  
An angel that loves me,  
And I love him...  
And he is the reason that I feel guilt.  
I feel guilt!  
So please, oh Lord, just forgive me,  
For I have sinned,  
But now I have an angel  
To show me how to straighten my path,  
And my path is so much brighter,  
While my burden grows heavier,  
Heavier with guilt.   
I beg for your forgiveness.  
Amen. _

As I read the last word, a voice from the shadows echoes me, "Amen."

I turn, tears stinging my eyes, to see Erik emerge from the shadows next to me. I drop the note quickly and grasp at his shirt, pulling myself against him. His hand moves behind my head to comfort and hold me as my tears begin to fall.

"An angel should not shed tears like this," he comments.

"This angel has learned what love really means. The tears do not fall from sadness," I respond.

I feel a drop in my hair and look up to see Erik crying as well.

"And what about angels not crying? You say we shouldn't and yet you cry yourself!" I retort.

"I am no angel," he sadly admits.

"Then I am not one either," I stand straight.

"Raoul," he says softly, "you are nothing less than an angel."

I take his hand, "And you are MY angel."

His tears slow and I smile, kissing a stray one away.

"Come," my voice is controlled, "let us eat."

He nods, "But first, there is one more thing."

"What more could there be, Erik?" I ask incredulously.

He smiles that secretive grin and pulls from the shadows at least a dozen more roses.

He offers them to me and I gently take them.

"There are two dozen here," he motions to what I'm holding, "and another dozen there," he motions to the vase on the table.

"They're wondrous," I smile as I study the flowers, all in the colors or black, red, and white. "Though I think the black were more for you," I smile.

He laughs and I go into the kitchen, finding a few more vases to put the flowers in, before sitting at the table across from Erik.

I note, as he starts to serve the meal, that he is not wearing the bandages, the wounds simply scars now, but he is wearing his mask.

Politely taking what he gives me, I wait for him to serve himself before eating. I watch as he tries to eat a piece of steak, but finds the mask a little troublesome.

I look down to my meal and then back at him, "You don't have to wear that."

"I insist," he answers.

"So do I," I reach across the table and gently remove the bothersome thing, setting it safely aside.

He turns so that only his "good" cheek faces me, and I gently turn his face so I can see it all. I smile and rub my thumb along both sides of his face before returning to my meal.

He smiles and eats his meal with nothing hindering it, and seems to enjoy the fact immensely. I finish my own meal, and find it quite delicious.

I turn to him when we have both finished, "That was wonderful."

"What would you like for dessert? I have much more food now that I know how quickly it will go," he smiles.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I smile, taking a sip of the well-aged wine.

He sighs and leans back in his chair. I move to stand behind him, draping my arms over his chest and leaning my neck against his shoulder, looking straight ahead. He smiles and leans toward my head, the right side of his face touching my left cheek, through my hair of course. I brush the hair away and let our skin touch. He doesn't flinch again, and I know this time that it's a good sign. I smile inwardly and stand up again, my hands moving to his shoulder.

He doesn't know what to make of my sudden change of mind, until I start to lightly massage his shoulders. To this he just leans back and moans in pleasure. I lean over and kiss the back of his neck, just to be rewarded by a whimper and a shiver up his spine. Continuing with just a soft massage, I'm surprised to find his muscles completely knotted. He must have been working very hard to get these sort of knots. Or maybe it's just that he never really had anyone to work them out before…

Regardless, I start to press harder along his back and he kindly unbuttons his shirt, letting it drape off of his arms and onto his chair. I smile and work harder. I'm leaving his back a deep shade of red, but I don't stop, knowing that this might be the first time that he has ever felt this sort of compassion.

I work on the knots until I fear that I can go on no longer.

My hands drop to my sides and feel his arms wrap around me from behind and pull me closer, just so he can give me a peck on the lips, and whisper, "Thanks."

Most people would consider that not to even be enough for the work, but I consider it the greatest gift of all.

CHAPTER 17

I lightly brush my thumb along his right cheek and he whimpers lightly and presses his cheek further into my hand. Smiling, I cup my hand around his cheek and I feel the corner of his lip perk into a smile as well. I lean down and kiss his left cheek.

Life couldn't be more perfect!

MADAME GIRY POV

Back with Meg, I am brushing her hair as I hear a great commotion from the hall.

"Mama, is there something going on today that I don't know about?" she turns to me, interrupting my brushing.

"Not unless we both don't know about it, now please keep your head still," I order.

She obeys, but continues talking, "I want to see what's going on!"

I sigh, "It's probably just Carlotta again, making her usual excuse for something that has gone missing."

"Why does she always blame the Phantom, mom? I know that he does sometimes cause trouble, but he hasn't bothered anyone in so long!" she complains.

"Hush, Meg, you know better than to speak of him, no matter how kindly," I know that she only means good, but Erik is not always as forgiving as he should be.

I set down the hairbrush and move to the hallway, only to find myself facing Comte Philippe de Chagny, Raoul's elder brother. He seems to have been just about to knock on my door. I thank God that Meg and I are dressed still in our rehearsal clothing.

His hand lowers and he bow, "Bonjour, Madame. I would like a word with you, if you have the time?"

I nod and open the door, saving him from the crowd that seemed to be his admirers. He smiles and walks into the room, standing in the middle, tall and prominent.

As I close the door he is smiling, his appearance unwavering, but as soon as the door clicks shut and the lock slides into place, his features melt into deep worry.

"Is something the matter, Monsieur?" I question.

He doesn't move to answer, and instead starts with his own questioning, "Raoul has not come home for a few days, and I was wondering if you knew anything about this strange disappearance?"

I look at him in false surprise, "How would I know anything about the Vicomte de Chagny, Monsieur?"

"Please, Madame, I meant no offense," he holds his hands in surrender, "I only meant to ask if you have seen him. My brother has a strange affection for this place and I know that you are the one to ask when it comes to who comes in and out of here."

I nod, "Yes, he has been here, but I am afraid that I have not seen him here for a few days… that is, he came here, but never left."

He looks at me in real surprise, "Where could he be?"

"Maybe," my voice goes lower, "he is with the Opera Ghost."

I have no wish to lie to this man, and what happens between the viscount and his brother has nothing to do with me, but he has the right to know.

"The Opera Ghost? I believe in no such thing," he replies haughtily.

"Don't you, Monsieur?" I shoot him a glance.

"You know where my brother is," he accuses.

I shake my head, "I know where the Opera Ghost is."

"Show me."

So I do. Or I try to.

"Mama, you can't! He'll kill you!" Meg screams.

I raise a hand for silence and she reluctantly obeys, sulking over to her bed.

I smile at her back, uncertainly, and motion for the Comte to follow me. Pushing the mirror aside, I seem to surprise him, but he quickly recovers and allows me to lead him down the long, winding pathways. Reaching the lake, he seems to not be surprised, which is probably from stories he heard from his brother.

As we walk along the stone pathway, we start to hear voices, and one of them is Raoul's. This sets the poor man into a run. By the time I catch up, I fear what has happened. Erik is on the ground, bleeding, though not from his wrists, and instead from a head wound, and Raoul and his brother are yelling.

"Raoul! I have been worried sick, and you know how people talk!"

"That TALK is the only reason you came to look for me," Raoul's voice seems on the verge of tears.

"How could you say that?" Philippe's is close as well.

"That's all you've ever cared about, is that talk."

Philippe looks sadly at his brother, "No. I do act like it's the only thing I care about, but there's one thing that I care about more."

"Sorelli?" Raoul comments coldly.

Philippe shakes his head, "You, my brother, you."

Raoul looks down to Erik and kneels at his side, "Then you wouldn't have done this."

Erik makes a last ditch effort to raise his head to look to Raoul before passing out. I move to his side, and start to carefully examine the head wound before anyone says anything.

"He'll be okay, Raoul," I comment, "He might need a bandage, but it's not going to need stitches, and he'll be limited to what he can do, but not bed-ridden."

Raoul nods numbly and I watch as Philippe moves to his side, "I'm sorry."

Raoul turns to him, anger flaring, "Sorry! You think that you being sorry is going to help Erik?"

Philippe hangs his head, then kneels down at Erik's side, "Do you love him?"

"Yes," Raoul hisses.

"Then I have no place between you two, good bye," starts to walk off.

"What do you mean?" Raoul stops him.

"You don't love me," Philippe stops, then walks again, as if trying to stop himself from crying.

Raoul runs to his brother and holds him tight, "Don't say that."

Philippe shakes his head, tears falling to the floor, "It's true."

Raoul kisses his brother's cheek, "Never."

"I still have no place here," Philippe points out.

"I'll need help with Erik," Raoul suggests.

Philippe shakes his head, "I've already caused enough damage there. You return home, whether with him or alone, when you're ready. I'll be back later today to check on you both. Until then."

At this Philippe leaves, and so do I, giving the Vicomte a slight bow.

RAOUL POV

I move to my angel's side, lightly brushing some hair out of his face, into the one huge mat forming where the blood is clotting his hair together. I kiss his forehead just as he starts to stir.

"Erik?" I whisper, afraid of how sensitive the injury has made him.

"Hmm?" he replies, his eyes not even half open.

I sigh and kiss his forehead again, "I need to get you back to bed, you feeling up to being moved?"

He nods and I slowly lift him off the ground.

Instantly he pales, "That hurts."

I nod, "I know, but Madame Giry said it would get better."

"What happened?" he mumbles as I set him down on the bed that we've been sharing.

"My brother came, Erik," I start, "and he was upset. He pushed you so you hit your head on the table. He's sorry, and he left."

I watch as Erik's hand tenderly moves to touch the top of his forehead, where the hair meets his face, and he winces. I quickly take his hand in my own and hush him, kissing his lips lightly. He smiles and kisses back, with little energy, but a lot of heart.

I smile against his lips, him having broken the kiss lightly moments ago.

I gently brush some hair away from his face and whisper, "I need to go get something to wash your hair with and bandage up your head, I'll be right back."

He nods, and whispers back, "I'll be waiting."

I rush to get some water in a bowl and some cloths, along with bandages and gauze, but despite my speed, when I return, I find my angel fast asleep.

CHAPTER 18

CHRISTINE POV

As I walk through the corridors, practice having ended not too long ago, I watch as the Comte de Chagny walks my way, after exiting Madame Giry's room. I was headed that way in the hopes of finding Meg, but I think that I would rather see him. He is quite handsome, with some age to his features, like an older, more mature, Raoul.

I dart to one side, into the shadows and follow him. He seems to be mumbling something, and then I hear an unmistakable word, 'Erik'.

He knows about Erik? How? Is that where he was? Is that where Raoul has disappeared to, down into Erik's lair? His home? I must see this for myself.

Creeping back, quietly, to my room, I move to my mirror. Now, if only I could remember how to get this open…

After many trials and errors, I successfully manage to pry the mirror open enough for me to slip through. It is so much easier going into the room then it is to try to make it into the pathway, for obvious reasons I'm sure.

Walking silently down into the pits underground once more, I feel myself start to shake, and not from the cold. I shouldn't be coming down here, it is not my place, but I must know what my childhood friend has to do with my Angel of Music. I know that Raoul would not be happy, but I do not care, if he is unhappy with my presence, surely my angel would be glad to see me once more, right?

ERIK POV

Waking up, I smile at the pleasant face that hovers above mine, the face of an angel. I watch as a smile graces his lips as well, and I can tell that he is happiness, since I can feel the warming feeling build between us.

"How are you?" his voice seems to warm me from the inside out.

"Better," my voice sounds weak, like it barely leaves my mouth. I hate feeling weak.

"Alright, that's good," he smiles wider.

I reach up and gently rest my hand on his cheek.

He leans into the slight touch and then leans over, his lips covering mine. I smile and he lowers himself onto the bed, holding me close and kissing me deep. I moan deep in my throat into my mouth, completely lost in the embrace.

CHRISTINE POV

Finding my way swiftly and silently to my angel's lair, I quickly head toward where I hear noise, only to be stopped dead in my tracks.

I find in the swan bed, Raoul and Erik. Raoul seems to be straddling Erik's stomach as the two share a deep and intimate kiss, even deeper than how Raoul used to kiss me.

I let out a squeak of surprise and I watch as Raoul's head shoots up and then turns to look at me. Erik seems still to be in a daze as Raoul climbs off of the bed and stares at me. He doesn't hide the shock in seeing me here as Erik regains his bearings and starts to stare at me as well.

Erik turns vocal, "What are you doing down here?"

I answer the hostile remark with a slight jump backwards and then, "I just wanted to know why Comte Philippe de Chagny was muttering my angel's name."

"I am not your angel," he spits at me.

"Then you're name!" I start to advance on him now.

"You have no right being down here, Christine," Raoul says, standing at Erik's side.

"You're right," I answer, "especially since I seemed to have interrupted something important."

Erik stands, though unbalanced at first, "You leave my house now!"

"Do not threaten me!" I scream, unsheathing the small dagger that I have started to carry.

Raoul takes a step backward but Erik does the opposite, slowly advancing on me, "Don't you dare threaten me in my own home."

I don't want to hurt him, not until he leaves me no choice, and I let him know this, "I didn't come here to hurt anyone, I just came to ask questions."

"THEN ASK!" Raoul screams.

Erik and I freeze.

Raoul walks between Erik and me, protecting his apparent lover, "What are you doing here? What do you want to know? Yes, I've been down here, and my brother knows it! He doesn't care! Leave what does not concern you out of this!"

At the words Raoul draws his sword, prepared to defend.

I take a step back, his presence seeming much more threatening, "Raoul?"

He takes a step toward me, daring me to strike, "What? Are you afraid?"

I actually nod. I am scared, scared of him, of what he might do to himself, of what he might do to me.

He smirks, "Then run, run to the newest man who is cursed to have you hanging on his arm!"

My anger and fear acts as I lunge forward, planting the dagger in his sword arm, low, about the middle of his lower arm, and then gasping, realizing what has happened, and backing away.

The sword drops to the ground with a loud clank. I gulp and stand back as Erik catches Raoul, slowly lowering him to the ground and then taking his sword.

"How dare you?" Erik growls.

"I didn't mean to!" I plead.

"You could have killed him!" he screams.

"I'm sorry!" but it's too late, I watch as he raises the sword above my head.

"You don't deserve to be forgiven, after all that you have done to us!" he screams, and I cower further, trying to get into a position where this would not be fatal and failing.

"Us? You mean Raoul and yourself? What have I done to you both?" I ask, confused beyond all belief.

"What have you done?" the laughter that escapes his throat pierces your skin and rattles your bones, "What HAVEN'T you done? That's the question you should be asking. You have broken both of our hearts by pretending to love us both and then you come back here in hopes of seeing us, in the hopes of us both loving you still! You are naïve beyond all doubt. You think that we would forgive you for what you have done and call for you to run to one of us, with our arms wide open?"

I shake my head, "I only feared that my childhood friend and my angel were not hurting each other. I see that it is quite the opposite."

He flinches when I call him my angel and as he yells, his sword raises higher, "Stop calling me that! I am not YOUR angel! Not anymore!"

"Then whose angel are you? If you are not mine, I have the right to know," I start to raise my head, but the cold of his eyes forces me back down.

"You have no such right," he laughs again, the same chilling sound as before, "but since you have come so far to know this, I shall tell you. I am Raoul's angel now. I protect him now. I protect him from people like you!" the last three words are clipped, almost as if this has happened before, but surely not.

"And does he protect you? Like I would have protected you," my voice is soft, with plenty of control.

"Yes," this one word tells me that my time is running out.

"Please, if you are not MY angel, you are still an angel, is this not correct? If it is correct, that means that you would not kill me," I plead.

His maniacal, for there is no better word for it, laughter fills the room and I feel his next words like ice on the skin, "I am an angel that protects that which means most to him. You mean nothing to me now."

I know my time is over, as those words move against my skin, almost biting my flesh, I know.

Closing my eyes, I feel the sword pierce my back, then my heart, and then my chest. I feel a few slow gasps come in and out of my body, and then I feel nothing.

CHAPTER 19

RAOUL POV

I watch as Erik takes my sword, the wound sending me into minor shock, hitting a muscle and temporarily numbing my arm, but I know if I wait, sure enough, the pain will come.

I then watch as he raises the sword about Christine's head, and I watch as it implants into her chest. I gulp down a breath and tear the dagger from my arm, watching her last few breaths struggle in and out of her body before she lays still. The reality of the situation hits and I feel my stomach flip.

Turning away from the pool of blood that is gathering under Christine's still form, I make it a few feet before I feel my stomach lurch and I taste bile in the back of my throat. Another second and I watch as vomit splatters onto the ground, my stomach contracting and heaving. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I flinch unconsciously and as I do, the hand recoils. I frown as my stomach gives one more violent push before all I can do is gag and dry heave. I spit a little into the mess, trying to rid myself of the taste.

I watch as Erik kneels at my side, handing me a cool, wet cloth. I gladly take it, making sure I don't make contact with him as I do. He notices this and lowers his head, looking at his shoes.

"How could you?" I manage.

"She hurt you," he points out.

"YOU MURDERED HER!" I scream.

A sob escapes his throat and I ignore it.

He doesn't seem to care as he falls back, his legs unable to support him.

His next action takes me by surprise: "I'm sorry."

"What?" my voice is soft with disbelief.

His next words are choked with tears, "I'm so sorry."

I find myself unable to stay angry as his tears and sobs take over, and I use my good arm to pull myself closer to him, embracing him, and kissing his forehead.

"I'm sorry too," I whisper.

This causes him to sob harder, his face in my chest, crying into my sweat soaked clothing, only adding to the mess.

I lightly hush him as he cries, "Everything's okay, Erik, it's all over now."

"I only… meant… to protect you," he mutters out.

"I know, I know," I whisper gently into his ear.

"I never… wanted… to kill," he whispers.

"Hush… hush," I coo, rocking us back and forth lightly.

As he back away, I allow my hand to find its way to my bleeding arm, applying pressure.

"Let me see your arm," his voice shakes, but his body is controlled.

I nod and hold out the stab wound, peeling my blood soaked hand from the cloth with a sickening sound. I turn, my stomach performing more acrobatics, but I remain still as Erik gently lifts my sleeve, lightly pulling it away from my skin as he brings the cloth above the wound. I continue to look away as he traces his hand near the wound, causing a hiss of pain to escape before I can stop it.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, withdrawing his hand.

"It's not your fault," I look at his face and it's lined with worry.

"You need to get this cleaned and bandaged," he comments.

I nod, "Let me do it, you shouldn't even be up and moving."

He steps back only a little as I make my way to the kitchen. He sits in a chair as I run cool water over the wound and then turn to him.

My voice is hoarse, "Do you have any alcohol to clean it with?"

He nods and points to a cabinet, which I open and see is full of random drugs, including alcohol. I pick the alcohol up carefully and dump it over the wound, biting back a cry. He has now moved to my side, holding onto the counter with one hand and he keeps his other arm wrapped around my waist.

When I finish bandaging the still-bleeding wound, I quickly turn to him, "Do you need help getting back to your room?"

He blushes and nods. I smile at his innocence and gently pull one of his arms over my shoulder. Balancing us both, quite the task I might add, I successfully lay him on the bed before collapsing at his side, exhausted. He moves over, making room for me beside him, and I gladly take the offer.

Then there are footsteps, resonating from outside the door. I sigh and move to sit up, but he holds me down.

"Erik?" I whisper.

"Raoul, it's your brother," he comments.

"Yes, but still, I should go greet him," I gulp, loud, "we never moved the body…"

He stops dead and nods, releasing my good arm and letting me stand. I wobble at first, but quickly make my way from the room, and out to greet my brother.

When I see him though, he is just standing there, staring at the lifeless form that had been Christine. I sigh and silently move to stand next to him. He turns to me and the look in his eyes is that pale numbness, the type that steals the life from someone's appearance. I lower my head and stare a little sadly back.

"What happened?" he manages to keep his voice in control, but it's almost emotionless.

"She came down here, got angry, which got me upset. I approached her, and she drew a dagger, stabbing my arm," I hold the wounded limb up, "And in return Erik killed her."

He seems to move in slow motion, lightly moving to lay his back against the wall and slide down to the ground. I watch as his body goes limp. I sit next to him and start to hold his shoulders lightly, embracing him gently and rocking him back and forth.

"It's alright, Philippe, shhh, I'm sorry, are you alright? It's going to be okay, are you alright?" I whisper into his ear.

He shakes his head, "He killed her, Raoul. I trusted him and he killed someone."

"I know Philippe, I know, but he won't hurt me. I know he wouldn't hurt me, Philippe. He was protecting me, he'd never hurt me," I lower my face into his shoulder.

"Raoul?" his voice is thin.

"Yes, Philippe?" I turn to his face, tears streaking down mine.

"I don't want you down here, just you two, I don't think that I can trust him any more, not that much."

"What would you have me do Philippe? Leave him?" I scream.

"No," his voice is calm; "I would have you bring him to our home."

"Not until he's better, and even then I don't think it would be fair to tear him out of the only home that he has ever known," I complain.

Philippe looks me directly in the eyes, "Then I'll stay here until he is better, I would not have you alone with this monster."

"If he didn't hurt me before, why would he hurt me now?" I yell, tears falling harder than ever.

Philippe has no answer, he knows this, but he will not lose this, "Are you saying that you would disobey me?"

"I am saying that I would stay true to the man that I love!" I'm panting from screaming, and all I can do is drop my head and cry.

Soon I feel arms around me, pulling me to Philippe, "Don't cry, Raoul, please don't cry."

I look into his face and see his own tears swimming in his eyes, "Then you shouldn't cry yourself."

He laughs lightly and so do I. I look desperately at him, begging him to say something, betting him to let me stay.

"Raoul, do you really think that he would hurt you?" Philippe whispers.

I shake my head, "He wouldn't hurt you either, not unless he had no other chance, but he would die before hurting me."

Philippe nods, "Then I'll leave you with him for now, but please, keep the offer of coming home in mind. We have the money, he wouldn't have to lose anything."

I nod and we embrace before he stands and leaves. I run back to Erik, to find him staring at the opposite wall, curled on his side.

"Erik?" I whisper as I move gently to his side.

"I killed her…" he mumbles.

"Yes," I nod, "but you saved me."

"I killed her," he repeats, his voice trailing again.

I try to hold him, but he throws me away. I stare back at him hurt and hold onto him again, harder. He struggles to get away, but I continue to hold him tight. He finally stops and starts to cry. I hold him from behind, holding his waist with both of my arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Hush," I whisper, "hush. Nothing is wrong with defense, you did everything out of defense. You never have to worry about that."

"Your brother," he whispers.

"Is letting me stay here, Erik. Don't you ever worry about my brother, he doesn't like Christine, he never did, he was just thrown out of place, that's all, he just doesn't understand," I whisper.

I lightly run my fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead, gentle and quick every time. There is no reason for him to be so upset. Well, there is, but he never was this upset before, never about something that to him is so trivial, not something like the death of just another person. But once upon a time, these two people were in love, and I think that this may be the death that sends him over the edge. This could be his push into madness. My God, please don't let this be the push into madness. He has asked for forgiveness, is that not enough?

"Erik," I whisper, a sudden thought being all I need, "Erik, everything can be alright."

"Raoul, I killed her!" he screams at me, tears streaming down his face.

"Are you sorry?" I whisper gently.

He nods, his voice choked with tears.

"Then pray, my angel, pray for forgiveness, and everything will be okay," I kiss away a few tears, but there are too many.

He looks at me as if I sprouted a second head, "Pray?"

"Yes, pray to God that you are forgiven, and He will understand. He understands us all," I smile weakly.

He manages to pull himself from the fetal position he had taken and moves to a kneeling position next to the bed, with a little help of course. Then he brings his hands together and his brow furrows in concentration. I smile as he mumbles a few incoherent words, his mind seemingly not in this room at the moment. He continues to bow his head until he finally looks up and looks into my eyes. I clasp my hands around his and we finish the prayer together: "Amen."

He smiles at me and I kiss the remaining tears away, relieved that my angel's pain has lessened, relieved that he has finally gotten his second chance at life and is taking it to it's fullest.

Just as I kiss the last tear away, he grasps my arms and presses his lips to mine, and we drink deeply from each other's passion.

CHAPTER 20

I lightly pull back eventually, my lips still lightly touching his, his breath curving around my lips, tickling my chin. I smile against his lips and kiss him lightly again before moving to pull his body to mine, lightly kissing his forehead.

"How?" his voice is weak.

"How what?" I whisper back, into his hair.

"How can you still love someone who has killed? How could you still love a monstrous thing like me?" he pulls back, looking into my eyes.

I look at him in unhidden disbelief, "My angel, don't speak that way. You're perfect."

"I've killed," he sounds sick.

I pull him back to my body, rocking him back and forth as he starts to shake, "Hush, Erik, hush. You will never be less than perfect to me. You're my friend, my angel, my lover, and I could never see you for anything but the beautiful soul you posses."

He starts to shake a little and I pull him back and kiss him on the lips before he can say anything more. I try to wipe the terrible things that he claims from his mouth, from his mind, from his life. I try to erase his past so we can live in the present. There aren't many ways to forget a past, but there are some.

"Erik," I whisper into his ear.

"Yes, Raoul?" his voice is back to it's normal, seductive, self.

"How would you like to come live with me, in MY home? You could have anything you want, and we could leave all this pain behind. Please, consider coming with me! My brother has invited you, and I'm sure that we could find you privacy," I sigh and kiss his lips, "Please, please consider coming."

"Raoul, the world has been cruel to me. I have wanted nothing but to have a chance to live as a normal person. You are offering this to me, and you question my acceptance?" he smiles.

I fall forward into his arms, holding back the tears that threaten to escape. He catches me and smiles, kissing my hair and running his fingers down my back. I sigh in content and turn to look him directly in the eyes. I see his joy and his liberation, but beyond that I see fear. He fears this change, and I do not blame him. I wish desperately that I could comfort him, but what do you say to comfort someone that has been betrayed since birth by everyone he knows? Or, at least, the people that I know about.

I look him in the eyes, still, and lightly bring a hand up to touch his mask. He doesn't flinch as he used to, but I notice a twinge of doubt cross his face. I smile comfortingly, or hopefully comfortingly, and kiss his left cheek, remove his mask, and kiss his right one as well. He seems to relax, but I continue to kiss any ways, trying to kiss away the deformity that has condemned a wonderful man.

He eventually turns his head from my face and I take that as a slightly painful gesture. I frown and pull back, hoping to see the reason in his face.

He is staring past me, past the body, to the shore.

I turn and see Madame Giry, along with Philippe.

Philippe turns toward me, then Erik, "I'm sorry, but she had the right to know."

"Does Meg know?" Erik manages to hold his composure.

"No," Madame Giry shakes her head, "she doesn't know anything about this. Your brother has been very kind to her and I, and he kept her out of this."

Philippe nods and Erik smiles, "Thank you. Christine was her friend. There is no need to trouble her with that thought right now."

"Which thought," Madame Giry smirks, "That she would betray you, or that you would kill her?"

Erik gulps and she approaches, making sure that they see eye to eye, "You didn't do anything wrong, my child, you have not done anything bad."

"I killed someone, Madame, more than once, and this time I have gone so far as to kill a young child, or a child in my eyes, and a female nonetheless. I swore I would never hurt a defenseless creature again, and I have killed one, again."

"Erik," she hushes him with the word, lightly placing her hand on his marred cheek, "she was not defenseless. She threatened you, tried to harm you, and she did harm Raoul, and you saved him. You killed the killer and saved the innocent. You saved Raoul. You saved yourself. Don't tell me your sorry to have done that."

He shakes his head, "I would give my life for Raoul."

"Then do not be ashamed of killing for him," she whispers.

He nods and she drops her hand. Philippe approaches next.

He comes to me, whispering, "Have you asked?"

"Yes," I smile.

"Then I take it as we will have another coming to stay," he turns to Erik, who nods.

I smile and kiss Erik's cheek and Philippe continues, "Glad to hear it. I'll go back and prepare, and return as soon as possible to help you pack."

He turns to leave and Madame Giry says her good byes, leaving ahead of him.

"Raoul, may I speak with you for a moment?" Philippe turns to me.

I turn to Erik who nods. I lightly stand so I'm face to face with my brother and we leave the room in a civilized manner, though no one can tell how long that will last.

ERIK POV

I watch as Raoul leaves with Philippe and find myself to only be kept company by my thoughts.

How could I have agreed to this? Leaving my home? Leaving everything that I have known for all these years? I don't know. Yet, I love Raoul. My God! I would kill for him. I would kill an innocent to save him.

Christine wasn't an innocent though, she had harmed my beloved, and she would have harmed us both had I not stopped her. She was mad.

I look around and find myself on the verge of tears, knowing that soon I will never see any of this again.

RAOUL POV

"Erik seems a little worried," my brother comments.

"I have only just asked, Philippe, and you are talking about him leaving his home, which he loves, so suddenly. I would be upset too!"

"I understand, Raoul, which is why I would like you to help me with something."

"What?"

"I need you to help me recreate this place."

"Recreate? How? Where?"

He sighs. My voice had gone too loud.

"I'm sorry, Philippe, but recreating this place?"

"Yes! That's just it! We have extra rooms, and the basement isn't used now as it is. I need you to tell me everything that he would want, could want, should want, and I'll make sure he feels right at home."

"Why the sudden change of heart," not too long ago he would murder Erik himself.

"You love him, and true love is a rare thing, my brother. I would not want you to lose him. Besides, he is being forced through a major change, the least we could do is smooth the transition."

"That's about all we could do," I comment.

"That's the spirit," my brother laughs.

"Well," and then I start into a short, yet expensive, list of items.

Coming back to Erik is hard. The look on his face is enough to tear my heart out. I move to his side and kiss his marred cheek lightly.

"I'll miss this place, Raoul," he comments.

"I know," I whisper, "I know."

Running my fingers through his hair, I long to comfort him more. Pulling his body to mine, I gently kiss his lips.

He smiles against my lips, the smile hindering the kiss, but only slightly. He presses his body fully against mine and as we sit up, him in my lap, I lightly run my fingers down his back. He moans into my mouth and I feel myself react, heat instantly shooting to between my legs, where he sits. I smile as I feel heat build between us. He presses himself in full against me, his hips digging into mine and causing me to moan as well.

His breaths come in short pants, mine in heavy gulps, but soon we can both barely breathe. His hips start to move in a slow, gentle grinding motion, thrusting toward mine. As his hips slowly rock against mine, I feel mine react and start to rock back, my head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

I feel his arm snake around the back of my neck, his hand resting perfectly against the back as he pulls me into a passion filled kiss. Finally I can hold on no longer and I feel myself release, though I am fully clothed. Erik then pulls back and cries out, and I assume that he has reached a climax as well. He lightly pulls me to him and kisses my lips once more.

"I don't want to move from this one spot," his breath whisks along my neck.

"I understand the feeling," I moan.

"Will you stay with me? Even if we're at your house, will you never abandon me?" he looks me in the eyes, the worry back.

"I could never do anything like that! I love you!" I protest.

"I love you too," he whispers, his head back on my neck, "Thank you."

I can't see his eyes, but something tells me that the fear has disappeared.

CHAPTER 21

ERIK POV

Unfortunately we do move, and not too long after I lay my head on his shoulder and nearly fall asleep. He kisses my neck and that instantly wakes me up, a chill shooting down my spine. I smile at him and he lightly moves so that I cant stand and so can he. When we first start to move away from one another, a small line of clear, shiny line connects our waists. I blush madly and turn away.

He wraps his arms around me from behind and smiles, speaking softly into my ear, "It's a very sad thing when we are embarrassed by this after being with each other for so long."

"It's just nature, I guess, for me to be embarrassed… for so long I thought there would be no happiness in this world for me alone to hold," I turn to face him, "and then you came."

He smiles and kisses me gently on the lips before taking my hand and leading me softly toward the bathroom. Once there he slowly closes the door and grins when the door clicks shut. I smile as he comes toward me and claims my mouth in a searing kiss. I kiss him lightly back as he pushes my shirt off my shoulders.

Breaking the kiss, I lightly whisper, "Raoul?"

"Don't worry," he whispers, "we just need to get clean."

"I don't think this is the way," I smile.

He laughs lightly, "You're right, I'm sorry."

I kiss his lips lightly, sucking on his lower lip a little before answering, "Don't be."

He lightly lowers my shirt, un-tucking it at the waistline and dropping it to the floor. I moan and do the same for him, kissing his bare chest. He smiles and moves to start the water, each of us tenderly removing our ruined pants. I gingerly let my pants drop to the floor, approaching the water tenderly. Raoul has already gotten in, his body glowing in the light invitingly.

I climb in next to him, the water swallowing me into a shallow pit of warmth and comfort. Raoul moves so that we both have room to sit down, him leaning against me, his arms around me protectively. The safety that I feel is immeasurable and it's all I can do not to fall asleep, exhausted by the day.

"Erik, let's just get you washed up and in bed, you're not looking so great right now," he holds me out of the water as some of my last strength is drained from me.

"Raoul, please, I'm only a little tired. I want to be with you," I look him in the eyes, "besides, you have your arm to worry about."

He looks ashamedly to his wound, the bandages covering it only slightly, having been partially removed with his shirt. I carefully remove the rest and take a clean cloth, wetting it and lightly pressing it over the gaping wound.

"I'd feel better if you let me stitch this later," my voice is weak.

"I'd feel better if you had painkillers for that," he laughs.

I shrug, "I have some."

"You do?" his shock isn't hidden well.

"Yes," I lightly continue to wash the wound, "I happen to have some of the best pain killers around."

"What's that?" he seems almost worried.

"Morphine," I comment, dunking his arm under water.

The yelp of surprise is nothing to the reaction to my words, "Why would you have that?"

The question is a terrible blow. It hurts that he wouldn't trust me, but when it comes to this, he has every right not to. Most of his assumptions are probably true.

"For," I pause, thinking of the right words, "hard times."

"Erik," his voice trails sadly.

"I haven't used it in a long time, Raoul," I assure him, "not since that night that I let her go. Amazing to see the changes between then and now."

"It hasn't been that long, Erik," Raoul points out.

"It's the longest I've gone in a very long time," I look away from him.

He pulls me back into his arms, despite the gaping wound on his forearm, and lightly rocks me back and forth. Though this may seem like he's comforting me, I know the truth: he needs to comfort himself. I don't blame him, either. I will admit that I was close to an addiction with the morphine, but I haven't been using it long enough. A few years is all that I've had with it, and I never used as much as I did when I was with her before then. I also must admit that I didn't use it after the roof for many months. I had planned for myself to die with a withered and pained life to leave. I didn't seek relief from that, whether it was food or water. The only one that kept me alive was Madame Giry. She wouldn't let me die, she said it wasn't my time. I didn't believe her until now.

I let him hold me; I let him take comfort in the fact that I've actually been happy the entire time that I've known he loved me. I turn so that I'm laying with my side on his chest, my face in his neck, and he lets me. The first time he allows himself to show how upset he is, I'm moving to kiss him. He almost flinches away from my lips. I stop before they can touch.

I don't say anything, I don't move. If he loved me, he'd do something, but he doesn't, he just sits there, staring at me.

Anger and sadness flood my senses. He's no different then her, he can't accept who I really am.

Just when I move to leave, move to lift myself from this tub and forget all of this happiness, he grabs my wrist.

Through a constricted throat, I manage to growl, "Let go of me."

He notices the pain, but doesn't let go.

I jerk my hand out of his grasp, but it manages to throw me off balance and I fall into his lap. I scowl and force myself up, and as I do I am forced face to face with him.

He kisses me.

Catching my lips quickly, just when I'm at his eye level, he stops my ascent. Lightly allowing his hands to come up behind me, one resting on my back, the other on my neck, his lips move softly along my own.

Moving my hands to his shoulders for support, I find myself kissing back, lightly moving my lips along his, savoring each moment that we're together and regretting every moment that we aren't.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers into my mouth.

"I can tell," I smile.

He sighs, "I shouldn't have been done that, flinching away from you. Something in my head was battling my heart."

"Which one won?"

"Which do you think?" he runs his tongue along my collarbone.

My eyes shut and my head falls back instantly. He smiles against my skin and gently nips. I hold back a cry, which is replaced by a moan. He lightly turns me around and with one hand massages my neck. I instantly start to fall asleep again, and he stops, moving me into his lap, his legs straddling my back. His control seems to be lasting well, but I don't think that either of us will last long like this.

I turn around and straddle his hips.

He frowns, "You're so tired."

"This will put me to sleep," I suckle his earlobe.

He moans and instantly the heat builds between us once more.

"You shouldn't bother that wrist too much," I smirk against the soft, yet firm, skin on his stomach.

"Go ahead," he offers.

"I never meant that," I smile.

"Then what?"

"A different way of helping you relax."

"Erik, no."

"Please? I don't mind. It's almost like an experiment, and I'm sure that you'll return the favor eventually."

He smirks, "You always were one to experiment."

I smile and lift him out of the water, setting him on the small ledge by the tub. He smiles as I take him into my mouth, the thought and feel intoxicating. Within minutes we are at our limit and taking the last dive over the edge. When my head finally is clear again, I instantly fall into the water, losing consciousness fast. I find enough strength to get out of the tub before falling asleep on the cold, stone floor.

CHAPTER 22

RAOUL POV

Quickly making it to Erik's side, I lightly run my fingers through his hair. He was exhausted and deserves the rest. Unable to carry him with two hands, a searing pain reminding me that I still need stitches in my left arm, I pull it close to my body. Moaning from the immense pain, I lightly kiss Erik's forehead before taking some towels and warming them slightly with some steam from hot water that I let run into the bath for a moment. Laying them gently over Erik's body, I lean back against the cool tub, slightly warmer with the fresh, steaming water.

I stare at Erik, for a lack of better things to do, as I dry myself with my own towels. A few times he whimpers, and pulls the towels tighter around his body, but besides that he is virtually silent and still.

His face, the deformed half exposed, seems in a state of contentment so I d not dare make a sound as I dress myself in new clothes, having brought them in earlier. He, on the other hand, had not planned so far ahead.

Allowing myself only to make as much noise as is necessary, I pull on new pants and leave the room in search of some clean clothes for my love. I do not wish to invade his privacy, but soon there would be no choice, seeing as how we would be living in the same house. I carefully open the door to his room and find myself once more in this terrible place that he calls home. His room is the only place that bothers me; it's the only place that reflects my angel's thoughts. Before getting some clothes I look around at the artwork. Many of the pieces have little color, consisting more of gothic styles than modern colors. Black seems to be a popular color, followed by a brilliant red that otherwise I have only seen in roses.

I lightly move some papers aside so I can stand in front of the piece that would be in eyeshot of the coffin from where Erik would lay. I look carefully at the details. It's a painting of what seems like the garden, only more at night. A subtle white glow is added to the dark reds, the darker greens, and the darkest blues. The scenery, though, is a bit different; it's missing the tree.

Quickly gathering some clothes, I make it back to the room to find Erik still asleep on the floor. I lie down on the floor next to him and wrap one of his arms gently around my chest. He responds by whimpering delightedly and nuzzling his face into my back. He does this in his sleep, only as if he were awake. How does he know it's me? Does he? Who does he think I am?

Questions like these buzz through my head as I lie still in my lover's arms, gently running my fingers over the rough, overworked, surface of his hand. They are overworked, in more ways then one. He is always so strung out, stressed from being over worked, and then when he finds free time, relaxation, he paints, writes, composes, and more! He doesn't ever allow himself time to just sit and rest; his hands ever busy.

If he comes to live with me and Philippe, as he has promised, I know that I will make sure he does stop, if only for a moment, and let these rough hands have a rest. Maybe then they will be softer.

Lightly dropping my hands from his, he doesn't respond and I don't know if he is awake or not. In a way I hope he isn't for this is one of those short break for his hands.

ERIK POV

I feel my arm being moved, and in my mind I know it's him. I can smell him, for after all of these years I have never really slept, I can shut my eyes but not loose my senses. I never truly am completely asleep. The gypsies taught me not to be. If you were asleep there, you were in danger. My thoughts slow when I am like this, but only to a subtle buzz, still moving incessantly around inside my skull.

I nuzzle softly into the warm flesh that is now in front of my face, unconscious, but ever watchful. I lightly sigh in my sleeping state and stay perfectly still. I'm not one to move much in my sleep, and he knows this.

My body takes in the warmth that is offered by the warm towels and the even warmer flesh that surround me. His hands gently trace down my skin and I can't help but smile, though I know he can't see it. That's the point though; I know he can't see me smile. I'm not one to smile, not in my sleep, and I don't want to give him the wrong impression, there is no one that I love more than him.

Waiting another twenty minutes, letting my body rest only long enough for my energy return, I move my hand higher up around his chest as my flutter open. He snaps to attention.

"Erik?" his voice seems exhausted.

"You should have slept yourself," I comment, sitting up and helping him do so as well.

"I can't sleep… it hurts…" I inwardly growl as he grasps his arm.

Nothing I can do now, though, but help him. She has already paid for her crime.

"Oh, Raoul," I whisper, calmly taking his arm and looking at the gaping wound.

"You said you need to stitch it," he points out.

I nod.

"Then go ahead," he holds the arm perfectly still in midair.

"I'll get what I need," I move to walk out of the room, pulling on the pants that he graciously brought me.

Gathering into my arms, I take a single shot of morphine, only enough to kill pain, no damage will be done, not like the amount that I take. That could kill a man. I then grab a needle and some thicker thread, what I use to stitch myself up if I ever need to. Preparing the needle, I turn around and see that he is now seated on the bed, waiting patiently for me to come back.

I smile and then turn back to my work, finishing and moving over to him.

"Give me your arm," I demand, softly.

He does and I find a vein close to the wound, sliding the needle in. He doesn't react as I inject the painkiller, and sighs when I pull it out.

"Raoul, that may dull the pain, but this will hurt… I'm very sorry," I whisper the last words softly into his ear before plunging the needle and thread through his skin.

He cries out instantly and I stop, wiping away the tears that escape his eyes.

"Shhhh," I whisper, wrapping my right arm around his body, my left holding the needle still in midair so the stitch does not undo.

He turns his head and buries his face in my chest as I continue, crying harder with every stitch. I long to hold him, long to take the pain away, and as I finish I cut the thread and move both hands to hold his shaking and sobbing body still.

"Hush, my love, hush," I whisper, his hands both come up to grasp onto my shoulders.

"It hurts," he moans out.

"I know, I know, its going to, but it'll be okay now, just take it easy and you won't have to feel that again any time soon," I whisper into his hair.

"Promise?" he sounds like a child.

"I promise," I try to sound as a parent would.

He nods, his seemingly frail body clutched to my chest, his breath whispering over my skin, his nails drawing blood, filling the crescent shaped indents where he has clasped onto me.

He whimpers into my shoulder and I quickly kiss his forehead.

"You should rest, Raoul," I whisper, "let's get you to bed. Lay down, it's alright."

He shakes his head, "I'm alright now, let me stay awake, with you."

"I'll be right here, but you need to sleep," I insist.

He holds tighter onto my back, his nails biting further into my skin and causing me a massive amount of pain. Please, my God, let my angel get a break. He's in pain, let him sleep.

Raoul yawns.

Maybe He heard my thoughts.

His grip loosens, "Erik…"

"Shhh, Raoul, shh, everything will be okay, when you wake up the pain will be gone."

He moans and his form goes limp in my arms. I almost cry with relief as I know my angel is relieved of his pain for the moment. I want to hold him until he wakes up, but I know I should get up, clean up the needle and the thread, so I do not scare him in his sleep or when he wakes.

I slowly stand, so as to not disturb the sleeping angel, and lightly kiss his forehead before clearing away the bloody needle and the extra thread. I wince as I touch the blood, knowing the pain that my angel felt.

Finally straightening up the entire room, I sit back at my angel's side and lightly run my fingers through his golden hair until he wakes up once more, all the while praying that the pain won't be as bad as before.

CHAPTER 23

RAOUL POV

I feel a small shot of pain before I even realize that I'm awake. I can feel the stinging of where the needle was, and I can feel the sweat that has cooled on my forehead. I probably sweated more in my sleep. I remember my dream of the stitching… no. It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. Dreams are pleasant; in a dream my angel wouldn't cause me pain.

I let one eye slowly open before confirming that the light isn't too intrusive and opening the other. I smile at the sensation of the hand that rests in my hair. I see my angel, surrounded by a halo of candlelight, watching over me in my sleep. He moves to take his hand away and I involuntarily whimper.

His hand stops, "Raoul, I only mean to move a little."

After saying this he quickly shifts, just enough to lay at my side, his head still propped on his hand, watching over me like a mother hawk.

"Did you ever stop watching me?" I whisper softly.

"You know I wouldn't abandon you like that," he kisses my forehead as if the action confirms this. It doesn't, simply him saying it does.

I nod, "I know, but you must need a break by now! Go ahead and sleep."

He shakes his head, "I'm fine, Raoul. Besides, we must start preparing if we are to go to your home soon."

"You don't mind?" I question, my fingers of my good hand lightly caressing his cheek.

He smiles, "Not if you keep doing that."

I laugh lightly and turn slowly to look around. I told Philippe what to get, what Erik wouldn't be able to move, and I think that I was right. I know that he would want a piano and his organ, though it would be impossible to move these. We already have a reliable piano in the house that could definitely survive Erik's abuse as he composes. I've seen him compose only once, he throws all else aside when he sits down with an instrument. Everything else was minor, but heavy.

I stand up and he instantly stands at my side, "Are you sure you're alright with this? You shouldn't be working at all with your arm."

"I know, I won't work, but I want to be with you," I turn to face him.

His lips quickly brush over mine, "Alright."

We walk into the main room, his eyes seemingly never leaving me.

"Erik," I protest.

He turns away, seemingly innocent, "Yes?"

"I saw you looking at me," I point out, scolding him, "and you don't have to worry."

"Who's worried?" he turns.

I wrap both my arms around him, careful of my injury, "I know you're nervous, but try to calm down. I'll be okay, and I'm sure you'll be just fine too."

"Raoul, it's not that easy. I've lived here all my life, or at least a good majority of it, and it's going to be hard letting go some of the possessions and memories down here."

"I know, I know," I kiss his cheek lightly.

He smiles weakly, and I brush my thumb gently over his marred cheek. I wish to comfort him further, but it's like he's losing a part of himself when he leaves this place. I understand that the recreation that my brother is planning is going to help him, but that doesn't mean he won't miss his home here. I understand the feeling. I didn't want to leave home when my brother signed me up for the navy. Hell, I was willing to die just so I didn't have to go, but that was only a temporary loss. I couldn't imagine leaving my home behind, whether my loved ones are coming with or not.

Gently kissing his neck before sitting on the bench in front of his piano, I sigh, "I guess I should let you pack…"

He nods and silently turns. A few moments later he starts to hum. I hear the angelic sound before I even realize that he was the one producing it. It's just like his voice. When he yells, it's still there, when he's whispering, it grows lighter, and when he's crying it becomes more desperate, but it never truly leaves him.

The humming is something that I've never heard before, a nameless tune to me, though I'm sure that it has a name in his mind. Maybe it's something that he's heard before, or maybe he's making it up as he goes. It's one of the wondrous mysteries of my angel, you never know what he's thinking, what he's planning on doing next, you just know that he's being mischievous somewhere along the line. He seems to have a bad habit of that, whether it's a playful sort of trouble making, or something deeper and darker, he never loses that sense of black humor.

Coming close to pick up a pile of music next to me, I feel his hand purposely brush over mine, and I hadn't realized he was that close. His touch resembles a whisper of wind as it slowly and carefully winds it's way from my middle finger's knuckle to the top of my wrist before disappearing. It seemed almost to trace the vein that rests there perfectly.

His movements, though, are not as fluent as normal, and I can hear his breath as his humming ceases. Lightly standing I move to his side and kiss him.

ERIK POV

I see Raoul approach, and yet the kiss is still a surprise.

The boldness behind the kiss is even more so surprising than the kiss itself.

He seems to take matters into his own hands as he lightly touches our lips, before graciously covering mine completely. He moans hungrily into my mouth, and the sound seems to leave his throat and enter mine, causing me to shiver with pleasure. Wanting nothing more than to stay like this and forget what I should be doing, I willingly submit to his hands as they rise up between this and lightly part my shirt, resting on my bare and sweaty skin. Longing doesn't take long to kick in as he forces his tongue between my lips and explores my mouth as never before. He acts like a child that has been starving for days and find a stale piece of bread on the floor, greedy mouth claiming it, but too slow for the insatiable hunger. Finally our lips part, and though I pant, it's not the same, nervous, sound as before.

"Rao-" I'm stopped by his finger on my lips.

"Now will you be able to relax?" he smiles and gently removes his finger and replaces it with his lips once more.

I nod, "I think so."

"Good," he smiles, "because I'm not willing to go any further."

"Scared?" I hint playfully.

"Tired," he admits dully.

I quickly catch him and sit him down, "I knew you shouldn't be up."

"I'm fine, angel, I'm fine," he whispers out on a breath.

"No, and you're going to bed, and staying there," I demand.

"Please Erik," the words tear at my heart, "let me stay awake with you. I won't move from this spot without your help, I promise."

I don't believe him, his nature would be to get up again if he saw me struggling… I know because I would do the same for him.

"Alright, my love," I kiss his lips before resuming my work.

Every now and then I'll sneak a peak as he willingly stares at me, letting me know he cares. I always smile and in return he gives me a greater gift than the kiss, he smiles back. His kisses are amazing but his smiles are perfect. His lips are soft with just a glimmer of teeth in between, perfect contrast, perfect beauty.

I willingly pack, knowing that leaving this place will earn me a lifetime of those smiles.

CHAPTER 24

Finishing, I realize how empty this place really is. It takes less than a day to pack. I would guess it was little more than an hour, maybe two. I look at the three sacks of my belongings. One for my compositions, one for my violin, some more compositions, and some less breakable valuables, and the last holds my fragile belongings. I carry the music box, not trusting that in anyone else's hands. The last thing to pack is my wardrobe, and that I will save until the last moment, only taking what is necessary.

I look over once more, and I can tell that my eyes betray my stoic appearance. His glance shows pity, and I know that mine must show sadness. I almost cry. He seems on the verge of tears as well, and I turn away, not meaning to be cold, only meaning to stop the tears before they start. He stares at me, even more hurt than before, as I see in the mirror in front of me, and I turn back, unable to stand the pain in his eyes.

"Don't be sad, Raoul, please, don't be sad," I whisper as I make my way to him, stray tears making their way from the corner of my eyes.

"I'm not the sad one, love," he comments, and I collapse at his feet, sobbing.

I feel his arms lightly wrap around my back, and his good arm pulls my head into his lap, both of his hands running softly through my hair. My tears run down my face and completely soak the fabric of his pants by his knees, but he ignores it, and so do I.

His whispers come in soft caresses, "Hush, my angel, hush. Everything will be okay. Shhh."

I bury my face in the valley of his legs, resting so I can just get breath around the fabric, and I sob into his legs. He moves to drop to my side, but I don't let him, forcing myself further into this half embrace.

"Angel," his voice is choked, "please, no more tears."

At his words I force my tears to slow, but some tears refuse to remain un-fallen. He weakly lifts my chin and I feel his hands cup my chin when I face him, his thumbs wiping away the tears that remain.

"My angel," I whisper, and he resembles an angel. Through my blurred vision of tears, his hair seems to make a halo around his head, and the area behind him seems to glow from the candlelight. All he needs is a pair of wings.

I gently take off my cloak and wrap it around his shoulders. They may be black, but they're wings. In a way the black fits, for my angel must have black wings from all my sins, but in a way it does not, for no angel should have their beauty stolen by a color that is so cold.

My tears refuse to fall anymore and I rejoice in the thought. The thought of an angel watching over me is all I need now. I would follow my angel to my death, if only it meant being with him every moment of my life.

He smiles and kisses my forehead, his soft lips brushing slightly against my skin.

"Are you alright now, love?" he whispers against the marred skin of my face.

"As long as you're here, I'm always alright," I smile.

He kisses my forehead once more before I sit up next to him, my arms tightening around his shoulders slightly, and my hands fastening the cloak.

"I can't wear this, Erik," he insists.

"Of course you can," I kiss his neck.

"But Erik…"

"What?"

"What about you? Where are your angelic wings?"

"I have no angelic wings, Raoul."

"Yes, you do," he looks me stern in the eyes, "Your cloak, the way it billows out around you… you seem like only heaven could have created you, even when you're angry."

He catches me. I have no comeback to this except to stare.

"Erik?" he caresses my face.

"What's the earliest you can get a carriage to take us?" my voice has gone back to the disguised tone that I know so well.

"A couple of hours, possibly, for a private one from our home," he answers with a half smile.

"Alright, I should tell Madame Giry what is to happen, and I will come back and wait with you," I turn to leave.

"Thank you," he whispers, as I stand and make it to the door with what seems like one quick motion to the human eye.

"For what?" I question, and leave.

My paths to Madame Giry are all quite short, and yet a little lengthy. I make it to her within a few minutes though, and stand by the mirror, seeing who is in the room. She seems alone.

"Madame?" I question through the mirror.

She turns to the mirror and I see tears staining her eyes. Maybe this wasn't the best of ideas.

"Yes, Erik?" her voice is hoarse with tears.

"I need to talk with you," I think and quickly add, "but I understand if you don't want to talk to me."

"No, Erik, I think we need to talk," she comments.

I open the mirror and step into her room, where she is sitting calmly, staring at me. The stare she gives me, that look that she gives me, it pierces my heart.

There is an odd silence that passes over the room, and she finally speaks, "I'm glad you told me."

I nod, "I expected no less. Does anyone else know?"

"Not yet," she shakes her head, "Though I'm sure the news will get out eventually."

"I'm sorry, Madame, I really am, but she hurt Raoul," her hand goes up to stop me.

"You've told me, and it's perfectly alright, really," she comments.

"Again, I am sorry," I hang my head in shame, for that's all I have about the murder, shame.

I feel her lightly touch my cheek, "Don't be, my child."

"I'm not your child… she was more your child than me," saying 'was' pierces my heart once more.

"You will always be my child," she smiles.

"Then you should know that your child has found a home," I comment.

MADAME GIRY POV

I smile slightly, "A home?" A better life?

He nods, "Raoul has invited me to leave."

"When are you going?" I gently take his hand in mine and massage it, hoping to comfort him and empower him.

"Soon," he states, almost in pain.

"Oh, Erik, that's really wonderful," I kiss his forehead softly.

He'll get his new life, his new beginning, the one thing that I've prayed he would get all along. He has finally had his eyes open to the outside world and he's taking the invitation.

He looks up at me sadly, "You don't care? You wouldn't ask me to stay?"

I feel terrible as I pull his shaking form into my arms, "Of course I wouldn't ask you to stay, but not because I wouldn't miss you, but because I love you, and I think that going with Raoul would be a wonderful life for you."

He starts to cry, softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even thought about it."

"Don't be, Erik, don't be," I hush him.

"You've been like a mother to me, though you were still more a mother to Christine, and it's terrible that I would even think such a horrible thing about you," his tears start to soak through my sleeve.

"Shhh, shhh…." I gather him completely in my arms; sitting his thin and light form in my lap, and start rocking softly back and forth.

He cries into my shoulder, and just as I think that he would never stop, his tears slow and I kiss his forehead again. Then another knock on the mirror alerts us to Raoul's presence.

He walks slowly over to Erik and I, and I open my arms enough for him to take Erik into his own, slightly faltering with his arm and sitting back onto a chair. Erik immediately curls against him and I see how far their love goes in one quick moment, the point that Erik actually trusts Raoul is proof of love in itself. Now, the biggest challenge is if the trust is misplaced.

Erik's tears slow, and I move over to their side, "I wish you both a happy life. If you would visit every once in a while, I would greatly appreciate it."

Erik smiles and so does Raoul, "I wouldn't dream of leaving without visiting you, just to make sure you aren't in too much trouble."

I kiss Erik's forehead and as they turn to leave, Erik now walking at Raoul's side, I know that this cannot fail. I see it in the way they walk. They do not walk with one in front of the other, but at each other's side. They treat each other as equals, and they would not seem to have it any other way.

My adopted son seems to be happy with his new life, and knowing that Erik is happy is enough for me. This is the better life I could never give him; this is the better life I always wanted him to have. I smile at their backs as they disappear into one of Erik's many traps, but this trap is not like any other. He created this trap to be his home; he created this trap like a bird that enters a cage, no longer able to spread his wings to there fullest. But now this young man, this young viscount, has shown him the door and has coaxed him from this cage of darkness into the light of the world.

I can't help but let a smile spread across my face.

CHAPTER 25

RAOUL POV

I find it does not take long before I can no longer fight the urge to take Erik into my arms. I quickly turn and grab his wrists, pulling his body flush against mine. I smile as he leans against me and I smile more when he tilts his head up, inviting me to kiss him. Or that's what I consider it, an invitation. I don't usually get them free, it seems, only when he wants me to kiss him, but that's enough for me.

I lightly cover his lips with my own, and allow my eyes to remain open as his close. I want to see his face as we kiss, I want to see that light that seems to glow around him with happiness and disappear with anger. The light is brighter than ever, it seems, as his whole body seems to glow with the two of us together. I press him gently against the wall, just enough so that I can pin him and allow my hands to travel up his stomach.

He moans and the light seems to almost dim when I pull my lips from his. His tender face seems to move in slow motion as his eyes open to look into the cold world once more. I know the world is cold, and I know that from experience, so I can only imagine how cold it must feel to him. I want that to end though, I want him to rest, I want him to be able to relax, and so I try to help, and I do will all that is in my power to help for as long as I live. I will never leave Erik again.

ERIK POV

Raoul's body against mine is amazing, the way that he presses himself into me, and me into the wall. The kiss felt wonderful after all the weight that has been placed on my shoulders. He takes that weight away, as only he can.

My eyes open as my legs falter. My legs always seem to fail me when I see him like this, a smile on his face and his arms wrapped around me. I lean against him and he willingly holds me up. Still conscious of his arm, I lean more to the other side and he slowly lowers us to the floor. I smile and rest my head against his chest.

"What is it, Erik?" he whispers to me.

"It's nothing, Raoul."

"Erik, I know you, it's never 'nothing'."

I sigh, "Raoul, if you don't know why then maybe you don't know me as well as you think."

He gives me a hurt look; "Well maybe I just need to hear it from you."

"What do you want to hear?" I sit up, almost screaming at him.

"I don't know, Erik, I don't know," he has a sad voice and I instantly hate myself.

"Raoul…"

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me."

"I do want to talk."

"Then talk."

I pause, "I'm afraid of what they're going to think. I know your brother isn't too thrilled about me, and don't try to deny it. I'm more worried about the rest of them though."

"Erik," he embraces me and I hold onto him, my arm under his, my hand curled around the back of his shoulder, "there is nothing to worry about. I'll be there for you, no matter what, just remember that whenever you get scared. I'm here for you, Erik, for you and you alone."

I hold onto him more and he, though I think unconsciously, smiles.

I pull back only a little, just enough so I can rest my face in the crook of his neck. I feel safer there, wrapped in his arms, able to smell him and only him. His scent alone can relax me, it's not strong, but it's there. It's a very strange scent at the same time, one that only I alone could love.

He shifts his head so it rests near mine, his chin in my hair. I lightly run my fingers through some hair that strayed near them and he smiles and pulls back a little to nibble on my earlobe. I moan and then pull out of his arms.

"Erik?" his voice is hurt.

"We should really go before I change my mind and decide to stay," I urge.

He stops, "I don't want to feel like I'm forcing you, Erik."

"You're not, but if we hang around too long you might have to," I complain.

He stands with me and we quickly return to my home, grabbing the bags that carry my possessions. Sadly I travel one last time to my piano and then my organ, lightly caressing the old yet sturdy keys. I feel tears sting my eyes, but I dare not let them fall in the fear that they won't stop. I sadly strike one last chord that seems to reverberate everywhere in my empty home, and then I turn and walk away. Even as we leave into the dark pits that lead out of the opera house, I can still hear the last dying remnants of that wondrous sound.

RAOUL POV

The chord that follows us through the halls, the last dying note of the Phantom, pierces my body and chills my bones. Knowing that such a haunting sound could really be in the heart, body and mind of my angel destroys me. I long to hold him in my arms, but I know that there is plenty of time for that later. Right now I need to stay strong. I need to stay strong for him.

CHAPTER 26

Rocking a little roughly with the bumps and bounces of the carriage on the rough road, I watch Erik as he stares out the window. There is nothing in his posture that suggests anything less than a gentleman, but when I look into his eyes I see the child that longs to escape.

He stares out the window with a wonder and curiosity that could not be challenged. At the same time, though, he stares with an incredible fear. There is a sparkling shine that breaks the surface of his eyes in the harsh light of the moon that shines in from the window, and yet a shadow deeper down of fear.

I move across to his seat, sitting beside him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He jumps, as if suddenly aware that I've been here all along, and then settles back into my presence and tears his eyes from the window.

"You'll be able to see Paris at her best now," I whisper, as if it were the only proper thing to do at night, "any time you'd like."

He nods to show understanding, but does not speak, as if afraid to break the calm night.

I gently move the hand back to his shoulder, and this time he leans his head to rest on my arm. I smile and kiss his forehead, "Rest, love, we'll be there soon enough."

He nuzzles my arm lightly and I smile again, wider. The smiles seem to just tug at my lips, they are effortless to me, and I love it when they seem effortless to him, though they hardly do. I gently run my finger down his spine, only meeting the bottom of his shoulder blades, the rest of his back being pressed against the seat. A forced smile graces his lips, the curve slightly higher on his unmasked cheek than on his masked one. He insisted on wearing the mask in the carriage, though I assured him it was only us.

I move my hands slightly up to massage his neck and he turns to face forward, allowing me to have an easier access to his neck. I smile and move both hands to massage his neck, and then turn him to me and kiss him long and hard on the lips.

My reward: a pure smile. I can't help but kiss the perfect glow of his lips, the glow that only comes when he can give me a pure kiss, like the one that I have just received.

I long to hold him and never let go, but he look back out the window, a little less solemn and no less curious. He searches the streets and takes in the image of the outside world that he never gets to see. Soon, on the horizon, I can see my house and I take his hand and point to it.

"That, Erik, is where we are going," I whisper softly.

He stares for a moment at it and then turns back to me, shifting down uncomfortably, "It's huge."

I nod, "But you don't have to worry about that, most of it belongs to my brother, I only own half."

He looks forward, "I'll only be in your half… right?"

I smile and kiss his cheek, "You can stay in your room for all I care, Erik, but yes, you'll pretty much stay in part of my half."

"Part of?" he looks at me now.

"You'll see," I smile.

I keep my mouth closed the rest of the way. I almost blew it. I really need to learn to be less anxious.

ERIK POV

It's so large. I don't really look forward to living in a place like that. Solitude has served me well, and will always be able to suit my purpose. Such a large place must take a lot of people to keep it running, a lot of people to stare at me. That's all those people will do to me, when I'm right there. Behind my back they'll tease me and jeer me. Just like everyone else in my life!

Well, not everyone. Not Raoul.

I turn my back slightly to him and lean against his arm a little. He smiles and leans my head back against his shoulder. I smile and bury further into his shoulder, desperately holding onto him and longing to be held. His arms wrap around me and I know that he'll keep me safe. Madame Giry, as concerned as she seemed for my happiness, has nothing to worry about. My angel loves me, and that's what will make this life worth living. My angel sees me as a person, not an animal, and that makes life as close to perfect as it comes.

CHAPTER 27

When the wagon jerks to a halt, my stomach does a flip and my heart skips a beat. I cling to him tighter and a small smile graces his lips.

"Erik," he whispers, "I'm here, there is nothing to worry about."

I whimper and fall further into his grasp.

"Please," his voice is almost saddened and it pulls at my heart, "my brother is the only one that will be here right now, there is nothing to worry about, you'll be safe, and I promise you that."

I nod and slightly sit up, "I trust you."

He smiles and kisses my lips. I nuzzle his neck and then turn around. I stare at the handle of the door. Once this door opens, it's a new life in front of me, once this door opens there is no turning back. For the first time, I'm not so sure that I want a new life. Then, a single motion makes up my mind. I feel Raoul's hand lightly rest on my shoulder, and I know what I must do. I have to start this new life, I need to start over, and I need to keep in mind that I'm doing this all for him.

I open the door and swing it open, expecting for someone to be there to take me away or destroy me, but there is nothing but a sudden rush of cool air. I gain a little more confidence, enough to step out and take a deep, shaky breath. Raoul comes to my side and offers me his arm. I take it and cling to him.

The next thing I know I'm at the door to the mansion that may just be my new home.

I want to knock on the door, but Raoul covers my eyes.

"Raoul?" there is fear in my voice.

He kisses my neck, "Shh, I want to surprise you."

"I don't like surprises," I complain, still scared of what this could be.

He grins against my skin, "This is a GOOD surprise."

He opens the door and I hear someone shuffling in front of me and I hear his brother's voice, "Hello Raoul. Erik… welcome home."

Raoul, though, does not remove his hands from my eyes and instead directs me somewhere else. We go through two sets of doors and then we stop.

Raoul kisses my neck and whispers, "Welcome home."

With that he uncovers my eyes and the sight that greets me is heart stopping. The entire room before me is a paradise. It has all of my things that I couldn't take with me: a piano and an organ and a few other things as well. I walk around and slowly caress the objects that I have come to know and love and see how new they are and how foreign they seem, and yet, at the same time, they seem welcoming. I sit down at the bench in front of the piano and rest my fingers on the keys. I do not strike a chord, I do not play a note, yet inside my head I can hear my music buzzing around, waiting to be played, composed.

A few tears escape my eyes and my angel quickly is at my side, holding me, "This can be your room. It's right next to a bedroom where you can leave whatever you don't want in here. It's not my bedroom, but it's fit for a king, and would certainly be big enough for anything you want. I want you to be as comfortable as you can be, Erik."

I take his hand that rests on my stomach in my own and manage to choke out, "Then stay with me, always at my side. That's all I could ask for."

He kisses my lips from the sight and lightly sucks at the corner of my bottom lip, "Anything for you."

I look over to the corner of the room and see something concealed, "What's that?"

"Well," he pauses, "though my brother was against the idea, since you normally sleep in a coffin…"

I have stood up and now I hover a hand over the cover, then quickly tear it off to see a beautiful coffin with a silk blanket and pillow, not unlike my own.

"Raoul…" I barely manage to get the word out.

"Erik, you know I don't approve of you sleeping in a coffin, but if it's what you want…"

I turn and pin him against the wall and press my body completely against him, and kiss him full on the lips. He moans into my mouth and I pull back, with only enough space for a single sheet of paper between our lips.

"I wouldn't do anything you don't approve of, not anymore," he smiles and I claim his lips in a kiss again, wanting nothing more than to feel that smile, to taste that smile, to remember that smile.

Sadly, the smile has to disappear, and when it does, I pull back, leaving him still pressed against the wall. He rests his head on my shoulder and I pull him into a tight embrace.

"My love, thank you," I whisper into the forest of his honey colored hair.

"Why are you thanking me, Erik?" his voice is muffled by the fabric of my coat, but I know what he has said all the same.

"Because you have done more for me than any other person ever cared to try."

"I love you, and they don't… they just don't know how to love you Erik."

I smirk, "What makes you so sure?"

He smiles into my shoulder, "Because I'm special."

I laugh lightly.

He frowns at me, pulling back, "That wasn't supposed to be funny."

I laugh more, and in between pull him in for small kisses, eventually erasing the frown. He smiles up at me once more and I relinquish my grasp, letting him go free for the time being. He slowly steps toward the door.

I watch him with curiosity, until he turns and comments, "Aren't you going to follow me?"

"I'm a guest, Raoul, not a family member," I return, "I have no place following you into areas uninvited."

"You're wrong Erik," the look on his face pulls at my heart.

"And how am I wrong?"

"Because you are family now," the faintest of smiles appears and I have to nod, agreeing with his boyish charm.

I finally take a few strides and land myself beside him. He stares at me for a moment, pausing as one does when you take a long sip of a new wine, savoring every bit. I start to feel my blood rush into my face. I watch as his hand, seemingly moving in slow motion, moves to caress the left half of my face, running his fingers and leaving a burning line along my skin. Then his hand moves to the crease where the mask meets my bare skin, and my hands shoots up to hold his in a blur of motion.

I squeeze, not hard, but threateningly, with built tension behind it, a warning. I long to remove the mask as much as he does, but in a strange place, a new place, I would never dare do such a thing. He whimpers, but shows no signs of backing down, so I tighten my grip a little more. He finally lets his fingers fall limp, and I release his hands.

He quickly tears the mask from my face in a harsh movement, and even harsher is my hand reaching up to cover my deformed skin. I kneel down, an animal trying to shy from a punishment, but I feel him kneel next to me, I hear the porcelain of the mask clink to the ground, gently, behind him. He isn't going to let me have it back without a really good reason, or a really big fight. I don't want to fight, but I have not survived this long in solitude doing everything that I have _wanted_ to do.

At first I allow a slightly pleading tone to enter my voice, "Raoul…"

I feel his hand come near my own that are pressed to my face, and I shoot a glare at them. Instantly he backs off, "I love you, Erik."

"No, you would know better if you loved me."

He whimpers again, "I love all of you, Erik."

I glance over at him, anger still in my eyes, but I know that there is more. I know what he sees when he looks at me, because I see pity in his face. He pities my fear, my self-hate, my solitude.

"Stop it," I growl.

"Stop what?" his voice is soft.

I turn angrily at him, tears burning my eyes, "Stop pitying me!"

He doesn't stop though, instead he sees my tears, my pain, and pulls me closer. I struggle against his arms, but he doesn't let go and finally I fall against him, collapsing into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his fingers gently caressing my face, "I didn't know that it bothered you."

"You knew you were doing it though! You knew and you never once thought it would bother me? Raoul, I have only known two things all my life: hate and pity. I can't stand receiving either anymore. I thought you would know that… I thought you could tell…"

He kisses my forehead, now crying a little, his tears falling onto my deformed cheek, "I'm so sorry, I thought that maybe if it came from me it would be different, I thought that maybe you wouldn't care, because I actually love you."

I lower my head and his tears fall harder.

I'm terrible to you Raoul, I don't deserve you…

I look up at him and gently wipe away his tears, "Please, Raoul, stop crying…" I manage to pull myself out of his lap and kneel in front of him, still wiping at his tears, "The only thing that you could ever do to hurt me is to cry because of me… I never want to make you cry… I love you too much to be able to know that I've hurt you."

"You've never hurt me, Erik," I kiss one of his tears away as he speaks, "scared me, but never hurt me."

I kiss his cheek more, tasting the salt of the tears that I caused, and holding my lover to me.

A few minutes pass and he is back on his feet, my mask behind his back, "Come on, I only want to show you my room."

I smile and nod, then shake my head, "Please, give me my mask first… please…"

He brings it in front of us both, looking at it in deep thought, "Will you promise me you'll take it off when we get into my room?"

"Anything for you, love," almost anything.

He smiles and gently replaces it himself, and then leads me out the door.

CHAPTER 28

As we walk out of the room, his arm in mine, his mouth in a grand smile, I can't help but smile despite myself. Glancing into what he claims is my room, I see that it is fit for a king: a giant bed, a giant wardrobe… maybe it's more fit for a giant.

I kiss his neck to hide my grin, and then follow him only a few rooms down when he stops in front of a door. I stare at the ominous door, no different than any other and different in every way.

Raoul simply turns to the handle and enters, I pause in the doorway.

He turns to me, "Erik?"

I look around and find the room almost an exact replica of mine, except they had painted mine a darker color, and this one has white walls.

He comes back to stand by me, "What is it?"

I finally focus on him and shake my head, "Nothing."

He smiles and shakes his head at me, "You can be a mystery sometimes."

"Am I a good mystery?" oh good God, he's rubbing off on me.

He laughs and nods, "I guess."

"You guess?"

He smiles, "You're the most wonderful mystery I know, sadly you are also the only mystery I know, so it's not saying too much."

I smile and he does as well, leading me into his room once more.

He gently pulls me against him as soon as the door is closed, and I watch as he moves so that his face is inches from my chest, his breath whispering over the top of my coat.

He grins, "How many shirts are you wearing?"

I give him a questioning look, "It's the night, and we were traveling, only my normal shirt and my coat."

He smiles wider, "Good," and kisses my neck.

I moan and he moans back.

"Won't your brother hear us?" I manage to choke out between gasps as he runs his tongue over my neck.

He rests and shakes his head, panting, "Not at all."

I cock my head to one side, "How come?"

"He knew we would want some time alone, he's in his study all the way at the other end of the house," I feel him smile against my skin once more.

I nod, and he lightly presses his hands to my chest, nuzzling my neck. I moan louder and he lets one hand slide up between us. My eyes flutter closed as his tongue runs along my jawbone so I only feel the mask being removed, and the cool air hit my face. The air does not stay cool for long, though, as heat rushes to every part of my body in one fast rush as Raoul makes his way from my neck and rains kisses along my deformity.

I whimper when his lips leave my skin, but I can still feel and hear his breath coming in gasps. I can tell right where he is, even with my eyes closed, and taking advantage of the pause, I claim his mouth in a searing kiss. His breath quickly halts and I run my tongue over his lips. He opens his mouth in a quick obeying of my command, and I open my eyes only enough to direct us back to the bed. Once there, never breaking our kiss, I push him down against the sheets and straddle his waist as it hangs off the side of the bed. I can feel how much he wants me, and I've known how much I want him, but still I feel the pain of myself pulling against my pants, pressing into him.

I break the kiss, gasping and he smiles, pulling himself into a sitting position and then straddling my legs over his hips, placing me in his lap. I cry out as I feel his fingers brush me.

He smiles and then quickly removes both my coat and shirt at once, and I return the favor. He then simply moves to remove my pants. No kind and tender moments as usual.

I push him down and remove his pants as well, and he is in seconds pinning my arms down, my back now to the bed. He smiles and kisses a long line down my chest, stopping just below where my pants line would be, and he moans, nuzzling my stomach.

My hips thrust at his moan, "Please…………"

He smiles, "Please, what?"

"Please Raoul… I love you."

He smiles and grabs some lotion; "I love you too."

The lovemaking is fast and harsh, my own body having twice as hard a time as his, my body more sensitive still then his.

When we are both finished, I have ended up on top, and I don't even have the strength to move to stop myself from collapsing on top of my love.

Raoul just smiles and holds me closer, "Rest, Erik."

And so I do, knowing that I have finally found everything I could possibly want.

RAOUL POV

At first I hold my sleeping lover, but soon I gently rest him at my side and then rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. My angel and lover has a beating heart, despite the dead sounding creature he describes himself as. I smile at the secret thought and gently run my hands down his stomach. He whimpers and shifts in his sleep, so I stop. I smile lightly again and quietly kiss him before standing.

I really hope he likes his room, with the black painted walls and his paintings hung on the wall. That's what Philippe is doing, or that's what he said he would do, hang Erik's paintings in his room.

I glance back at Erik and marvel at him in his slumber. He looks so calm and quiet and vulnerable. I guess that's what makes me love him, he is vulnerable and tough all at once, and would die to protect me, as I would die to protect him.

Maybe, just maybe, he can have that better life that I can tell we both have prayed for after all.

THE END.


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